


Flowers Blooming in Your Lungs

by grethan-allmance (Sapphire09)



Category: The Dolan Twins, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Grethan, Hanahaki Disease, Incest, M/M, Romance, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17618684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphire09/pseuds/grethan-allmance
Summary: The first time Grayson coughed up his first flower petal, he was alone in his house and thought, for the first half of a second, if he had actually hacked out a part of his lung and confused why it didn't hurt more. He also expected it to be red and not blue. And more blood involved.But, it wasn't his lung. It was a flower petal instead.....A part of his lung would probably better. At least that would've been easier to explain.





	1. Fluttering

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted at tumblr and Wattpad

Grayson was alone the first time he coughed up a flower petal out of his throat.

He hadn't been feeling well in the last couple of days. He's been out of breath more often and sooner than he usually does. He thought that maybe his allergies had been acting up, or his asthma was getting worse because of the cold. Granted, LA was still  _much warmer_  than New Jersey, so he thought maybe he gained a new allergy or something. That seemed more plausible. Added to that, his throat had been feeling weird, as if something was stuck in it and he couldn't get it out. He's been coughing a lot, but it was dry and didn't really alleviate the feeling.

He thought he was just getting a cold. He does get sick a lot.

So when he coughed and a flower petal came out of his mouth, he stared at it, confused, before proceeding to freak the fuck out.

"What the  _fuck_...." he muttered, staring at the blue flower petal in the palm of his hand.

"Ethan!" He called out, still freaking out. " _ETHAN!!"_

His heartbeat was racing fast as he ran out of his room, calling again for Ethan. At least, until he reached the front door and saw that Ethan's car was gone.

Great.

Feeling a little frustrated and scared (because who the fuck coughed out  _flowers_?) he quickly facetimed Ethan.

Ethan didn't answer.

...Figured.

Now frustrated for a whole other reason, Grayson decided to just go to a doctor on his own. Fuck Ethan. He's a grown, independent, 19 years old man that can and will handle this coughing out  _flower_   _petal_  thing on his own.

Though, he's freaking the  _fuck_   _out_  and could feel his lungs squeezing tight, shortening his breath. His heartbeat was too fast and his sight was spinning and  _God, no,_  he can't have an anxiety attack  _now_.

His throat was closing and he was having anxiety and he tried to cough and—

Another blue petal fluttered out.

Shit.  _Shit_.

* * *

It took quite a while for Grayson to finally calm down. Flower petals were scattered around where he curled up on the floor in the foyer. They made a mess of colors and right now he wondered if he should clean them up. They came from him, so they were technically his vomit, right?

Grayson felt even worse, slightly lethargic and sluggish now. But, at least he felt calmer. His throat was throbbing and he was covered in sweat even though all he could feel was cold. His clothes felt damp and disgusting thanks to his own sweat. His heartbeat had gone down to a more regular beat, though still a little fast, while his breathing was still shaky.

At least he could breathe, now.

Grayson took another second to stare at the petals he coughed up before he stood up on shaky legs. They smelled weirdly nice and they all had beautiful colors. He didn't know how that could be, he coughed them out of his body. Still, right now his mind was still rebooting and at least that meant he didn't freak out again over the thought that the petals came from  _inside_ his  _body_.

His freak out was over.

And he was still alone.

....Right. He needed to go to a doctor. That's what he needed to do. And maybe call Ethan. He'd feel better with Ethan there.

No, wait. He'd probably tell Grayson to go on his own.

...Or maybe his call won't get answered again.

...Just, shower. First. Shower.

Warm shower, so he won't feel as cold.

Yeah, that's a good start.

* * *

Dr. Anthony Sakamoto was young, perhaps one of the younger doctor Grayson had ever seen in his life, and one of the better looking one too. Beardless with a neat haircut, he looked like a man James would certainly flirt with without a second thought.

His tone was considerate and kind as he told Grayson his verdict.

Hanahaki disease, or 'throwing up flowers' disease. It wasn't exactly a rare disease, though it didn't happen very often either. Grayson didn't quite understand just how rare was 'rare' or how often was 'very often'. Apparently, just enough for those in medical community to know and learn but not quite to be familiar in the general populace. According to the good doctor, no one can quite love anyone more than they love themselves nowadays.

The kind of love was specified too. A love a fan has for their idol, no matter how intense it seemed, was still not in criteria to cause Hanahaki disease. Not the familial one either, or intense friendship. The kind of love it latched on was the one that was as intense as it was pure, true and with one's entire heart,  _romantic_  in nature, and  _one-sided_. A love that asked for nothing else but for that love to be returned.

The only way to cure it was by being accepted, loved back  _romantically_ , by the person the patient loves, or cutting it out to its roots with surgery. Cutting it out will stop the patient from loving the person entirely, leaving nothing but apathy and indifference for that person, as if that person was just any other stranger in the patient's life. Even the memory of loving that person will bring nothing but the knowledge,  _I had loved that person, and now that person is nothing to me._

Grayson doesn't want that to happen.

"But, I never even confessed. H— _they_ , they never rejected me outright."

"They don't have to reject you with words," the doctor said. "You just have to believe it, know with all your heart of that rejection, even though the words were never said. As long as you believe without a doubt your love was rejected, that was enough to trigger the Blooming."

The Blooming, when the flowers in his heart bloom in his lungs, causing all sort of breathing problem that he had been feeling in the last couple of days. Then comes the Fluttering, when petals started to get coughed up from his throat and out of his mouth. Until comes the Trickling, when a whole head of flowers started to get coughed out along with blood, the last stage before it truly becomes inoperable.

Before the patient dies of suffocation, thanks to the flowers filling up their lungs, closing up their throat and stuffing their mouth and nostrils. Or, as named, the stage of the Flowering.

"Who the hell named those stages?" Grayson asked, heart racing in panic at the thought of  _stop loving_  or  _die_. "Those words don't fit those morbid conditions!"

The doctor had chuckled a little, looking at Grayson with a sympathetic smile.

"Flowers and love are often associated with beauty and life. It was only fitting to give beautiful names to its stages too."

The doctor looked so calm and sympathetic, while Grayson felt confused and scared and—

"I—I need to call my brother. Can I call him here?"

"Of course."

The doctor nodded and waved his hand in a go-ahead gesture. Grayson quickly facetimed Ethan, needing to see him—

_"Hey, Grayson,"_  Emma greeted brightly, her head was a mess like usual and she didn't look like she had been sleeping in the last three days.

So, Ethan went to her place?

"Emma? Where's Ethan?"

_"He's been editing for a while. I think he forgot he put his phone here. I'll get you to him,"_ Emma said as she picked up Ethan's phone and carried it with her as she walked.  _"He said you've been sick, like your allergies and shit. You okay? You do look kinda bad_."

Grayson didn't know what exactly what to say. He wasn't  _okay_. He didn't know if he should lie. It wasn't like— Emma  _is_  a friend.

"I'm fine," he lied anyway. "He's helping you with editing?"

_"_ _Ugghh_ _,"_  she groaned and rolled her eyes.  _"Editing, filming, I haven't fucking posted anything and everyone is going fucking crazy!!"_

_"Emma? You answered my phone? What the fuck?"_  Ethan's voice suddenly said. At the same time, Grayson could feel petals starting to fill up his throat.

_"What? It was Grays—"_

Grayson ended the facetime, coughing hard into his palm, feeling the soft petals brushing against his hand. After his cough subsided, he looked up to see the doctor looking at him with wide eyes.

"Was she—"

Grayson's phone rang again. He looked back at the screen to see Ethan's face looking back at him and he wondered why he called Ethan in the first place.

(He was scared and lonely and  _dying_  and wanted Ethan to  _help him_ )

He wasn't sure anymore if it was a lump or petals filling up his throat. He looked back at the doctor, to see him furrow his eyebrows but gave another 'go ahead' gesture.

Grayson looked back at his phone. Ethan was facetiming him back. But, Grayson didn't want Ethan to see him. He really didn't want Ethan to see him coughing up flowers. And he could feel it, the tingle in the back of his throat. He would.

He covered the front camera with the edge of his shirt and held there with his left hand, hoping that was enough. He was wearing darker color today. He remembered Ethan doing this in his creepy guy prank video.

_"Gray? I can't see you."_

"I can."

Grayson could see Ethan frowning.  _"You sound worse than this morning. You okay, bro?"_

"Yeah, I—," Grayson tried to hold off a cough by pressing his right hand to his mouth, closing it tight. "—I'm fine," he croaked out.

_"You don't sound—"_

Grayson quickly ended the facetime again before letting out a series of coughs, petals raining down onto his hand and lap. Breathing hard, he looked back up to the doctor again.

Right now, he must've realized who was the person causing Grayson's disease.

"Was that your brother?" The doctor asked, tone unchanged from before. He was still calm and sympathetic.  _Kind_.

Grayson nodded, clutching his phone in a tight grip. His phone was ringing again in his hand, but if he answered he would cough again and more petals are going to get coughed up.

"You're not going to answer?"

Grayson nodded his head.  _What will the doctor think now? Shit, I'm dying? Ethan keeps calling. He gonna be so worried. Oh God, I'm gonna die._

Grayson quickly shook his head and covered the front camera again before answering the call.

_"Dude, what the hell? You okay?"_

Grayson tried to swallow, before coughing a little to clear a bit more of his throat. Another petal fell out of his mouth.

"Yeah, sorry. I coughed and accidentally ended the call. I think I need both cough drops and lozenges. Buy them for me."

_"Come on, you still can drive,"_  Ethan complained. Like he usually did. Like every other day Grayson ever asked him to do something for him.

_I'm going to die because I love you too much._

"...Please, Ethan."

Grayson coughed a little again, letting more petals fall. Ethan sighed exaggeratedly before he relented.

_"_ _Fiiiine_ _...."_

"Thanks, bro. Peace."

_"Peace."_

The call ended. Grayson coughed again. The doctor's office probably looked like there was a wedding reception happening there, with all the petals that scattered.

At least they all weirdly smell nice, considering those came from  _inside_ his  _body_.

"Is your brother...."

"...Yeah. He's the one I'm in love with. He's my twin."

Grayson didn't dare to look at the doctor's face.

"I see...," he heard the doctor said. "Are you going to keep this for him?"

"I don't know. I don't  _want_ to, but I don't think telling him will help."

"Why not?"

Grayson glared at the doctor. Isn't it  _obvious_?

"I'm going to fucking  _die_  because I  _love him too much_ ** _more_** than a brother  _should_!  _What_  am I supposed to  _say_  to him!? If I tell him I'm  _dying_ , he has to know why, and if I tell him  _why_ , then he won't reject me even if he doesn't feel the same way and that's not  _fair_!  _I don't want that!"_

It wasn't until the doctor was offering a handkerchief that he realized he was crying. His throat felt tight even as he tried to control his expression and his tears. He still accepted the handkerchief because his eyes were already wet. He felt ashamed, but at the same time, he felt like he could cry for this. He was  _dying_. And  _alone_. And so  _fucking scared._

"Will you consider having surgery, Mr. Grayson?"

"...I've always loved him before,  _alway_ s, before I was  _in_   _love_  with him. Will I keep that?"

The doctor looked regretful as he shook his head. "No, unfortunately. Every traces of affection, even platonic ones, disappear along with the flowers."

Grayson stared down at his lap. "Then no."

The doctor nodded before he took a card from his drawer and offered it for Grayson.

"I'll schedule a biweekly appointment for you, to check on your progress and condition. I'll also prescribe some medicines to ease your throat. As for the card, the number on the back is my personal number, if you need someone to talk to. That one I won't bill you for."

Grayson stared at the card.

"Why does this stupid disease exist, doctor?"

Dr. Anthony looked up from writing on his pad, looking back at Grayson.

"Unrequited love is always painful. This disease was just a consequence of that. It attacked a love so deep, so true, yet not returned. It gave that love a form, turning it into a flower that the beloved can appreciate, in hope by showing that beauty, the beloved can try to love it back."

Grayson frowned. "Love doesn't work like that."

"It  _is_  a disease, Mr. Grayson. That's why it needs to either be removed or you'll die from it."

* * *

When Ethan got back, he was annoyed to see Grayson's car was gone. There he was, already being a good brother and bought the requested cough drops and lozenges (honestly, Grayson won't even need  _all_ of them), he even chose the flavor that Grayson would like, yet where was said brother?  _Gone!_

Ethan was annoyed and slightly worried. Grayson really didn't sound good on the phone. Did he take too long, or something? He went right after their call. He even told Emma to finish the rest herself, he'd done enough to get her at least have one video ready to be uploaded by tonight.

And yet Grayson was  _gone_ , probably buying the  _exact same thing_  Ethan  _bought_. For  _him_.

_This is why Grayson should buy it himself in the first place!_

Grumbling to himself, Ethan unlocked the front door and went inside. Though, as he stepped into the foyer, he noticed the mess of flower petals on the floor.

Squatting, he went down and grabbed a blue petal with his thumb and index finger. The softness of the petal made him wish it had been bigger so he can have more surface to rub his fingers on. The color was pretty and it smelled so  _nice_. Fresh and slightly sweet, also other things Ethan couldn't really name. He never smelt anything like it before. He  _loves_  it.

He wondered what flowers the petals came from. He also wondered where Grayson got them and why he scattered them on the floor. They were really nice. It actually made Ethan wanted to gather them up himself.

But, no. He'll tell Grayson to gather them. After all, he made the mess. He should clean it. Then Ethan will just take some for his room.

Ethan grinned to himself as he went towards the couch, the one blue petal still pinched between his fingers. He wondered if Google can find out what kind of flower it came from.

Man, it really does smell very nice.

 

**TBC**


	2. Fleeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Grayson came back home, the last thing he wanted to face right then was Ethan. He wasn't ready to face his brother just yet.
> 
> Unfortunately, life disagreed and shoved him towards Ethan. Hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cross-posted at tumblr and wattpad

When Grayson arrived back home, Ethan's car was the first thing he noticed as he was driving back into the driveway. He should've expected it, but he honestly thought Ethan would be at Emma's for longer. When Ethan went to help Emma with her videos, he was usually there until evening.

Grayson wasn't ready to face Ethan yet.

After Grayson parked into his usual spot, he didn't move to open the door. Instead, he sat there, just laying his forehead on the top edge of the steer with his arm in between, wondering what he would say to Ethan once he saw his brother's face.

He's not  _ready_.

He stared at the flower petals that have settled under him. He'd thrown away most of the petals he coughed up while on the way to the doctor, but he still missed some. He also coughed up a little on the way back. He wondered if he should clean them up now or later. He didn't know what he would feel if Ethan saw those petals, knowing they were the manifestation of Grayson's  _love_ for him. Would he be disgusted?  _Cringe?_

The doctor had been very kind, not saying anything more about the fact he was in love with his own brother. He did advise him to at least talk to his other family members, especially if he was adamant about not having the surgery. His parents are going to lose their son. At the very least, they should be told.

That would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it?

But Grayson didn't know if he could. He didn't know if he  _should_.

_Dying_  for  _love_ , that sounded so cheesy and more like a cliché tragic love story everywhere.  _Dying_ for _love_  for your own  _brother_? That sounds more like either karma, or  _stupidity_. Or just straight up  _punishment_.

Oh God, what the  _fuck_  does he say to Ethan? He couldn't-

_Knock-knock-knock!_

Grayson was startled out of his thoughts a little too violently, flinching away from the steer and quickly turned his head towards the car window on his side, hitting his head on the roof of the car just as he saw it was Ethan, pressing his face ridiculously against the window.

" _Ow_..." Grayson groaned in pain, his right hand pressing on his head and his left hand moved to unlock his car door. Ethan opened the car door just after the car unlocked while Grayson quickly picked up the small paper bag filled with his prescribed medicine he had settled on the passenger side. He could hear Ethan guffawing right beside the door, the fucking  _dick_.

"What the  _fuck,_  Ethan?" Grayson complained. The back of his head was  _throbbing_. At least he didn't feel too dizzy. Or concussed.

"You're the one not coming out! What the hell were you doing anyway?" Ethan asked, still laughing even as he helped and pulled Grayson out of the car with a grip on his arm. "I saw your car parking, but you took so long getting out! You were just there on your steer, you good?"

Grayson still rubbed the back of his head slowly with his free hand, feeling that a slight bump was already forming. He turned his face towards Ethan then, unamused.

And saw how Ethan's expression suddenly changed from mirth to serious.

"What the hell...," Ethan muttered, any trace of his laughter was gone as both of his hands suddenly went up and cupping Grayson's face. Grayson blinked, a little startled. He tried to lean back a little when Ethan's eyes were focused on his face,but he pulled Grayson's face towards him instead. Despite his wariness, of course Grayson went easily, barely fighting it.

"...What?" he asked back, confused. He didn't have petals on him, did he? Did Ethan saw his medicine? But, even if he did, nothing Dr. Anthony had prescribed were anything indicative of the Hanahaki disease. They should just look like throat medicine. Because that's what they  _are_. Besides, what would Ethan know about that disease, anyway? Graysondidn't _._

Grayson kept himself calm, though his heart was starting to race. He could feel the tingle in his throat, but he didn't feel like coughing yet. He was still at the start of the second stage, it should be possible for him to keep his coughing down, as long as he kept himself  _calm_. So Dr. Anthony said, anyway. He said the reason why it had been so uncontrollable before was because of the panic attack he had and his mental stress after knowing he was going to  _die_. His Psychological condition also influenced how the disease behaved, Dr. Anthony had told him.

So, Grayson should stay calm. But, he was wary and flustered and both of those emotions were making it hard for Grayson to stay  _calm_.

"You really don't look good," Ethan muttered, frowning deeply. "It was just a cough, right? You didn't get the flu? You don't feel warm."

Grayson quickly shook his head and forced Ethan's hands away with his arms, backing away just after Ethan released him. He turned to start walking into their house, Ethan following right behind him.

"Just a cough, Ethan. I'm good," Grayson said, proud of himself for nailing his 'unconcerned' tone. Technically, he wasn't lying. His cough just comes with extras, like flower petals and disease and  _death._

"What are you doing home? Weren't you at Emma's? I thought you'd be home later."

"Because I'm a good brother, so I went and bought you those cough drops and lozenges!" Ethan complained as they passed the front door together. "But when I came back, you were gone. And bought your own medicine, apparently. Which made my run to the store for you utterly  _useless!"_

"Sorry. I was coughing a lot and I thought you wouldn't be back until tonight since you were at Emma's," Grayson apologized, glancing quickly at Ethan to show he  _was_ sorry.

Ethan scoffed, though he seemed to be appeased enough since he threw an arm around Grayson's shoulders while his other hand was pointed forward.

"By the way, did you leave those petals there? They were already there when I came home."

Grayson stared at the scattered mess of flower petals, still on the floor of the foyer, where he had left them.

Where he coughed them up when he had his panic attack.

He forgot to clean them up before he went to the doctor. Because he needed answers and didn't think Ethan would be home before him.

"Uh, yeah," Grayson answered absently, his mind was blanking out. He had seen his mess back in the doctor's office, the mess of petals of various sizes, shapes, and colors. Compared to the mess he left there, this was milder. More like as if he had brought in a bowl of petals and spilled them all over the floor, compared to the half of a bucket he had coughed up as the doctor's office. But, to see them now in their  _house,_ where Ethan could  _touch_ them...

_Embarrassing._

_Shameful._

**_Disgusting_ ** **.**

"I'll clean it up," he said, already moving to clean it up. He got his medicines out of the paper bag and put them on the table by the couch, before moving to clean the petals up by hand. He didn't care to even find a broom, because he didn't want to waste any more time to find it.

The petals have to be thrown out.  _Now_.

"Oh, great! You know your duties, then," Ethan exclaimed smugly, as he did whenever Grayson did something he wanted, as if Grayson weren't going to do that  _anyway_.

It was probably one of the most infuriating things Ethan has ever done to Grayson. Often. Which was making things Grayson liked to do, had done by his own choice, as if he was doing it for  _Ethan_. Or because Ethan told him to. Even though they both  _know_ Grayson would do it whether or not Ethan said anything. Sometimes, it just coincided with what Ethan wanted  _Grayson_ to do.

Any other time, Grayson would stop what he was doing and get annoyed and have another fight with Ethan. Any other day, Grayson would yell at Ethan, Ethan would argue back, Grayson would lose the argument and will continue what he was doing, just much more grudgingly. Literally whenever else but  _today_ , that kind of sentence would be the start of another argument.

But, because today is  _today_ , Grayson didn't react besides saying, unconcernedly and barely hearing what Ethan said, "Yeah, sure."

That was how focused he was. He didn't want even a  _petal_ to slip, to get blown by wind or air like dust into the gap between the floor and the bottom of their furniture. The petals need to  _go._

He could feel his throat tingling again.

* * *

Ethan could feel something was off when Grayson only reacted with an agreement. Two simple words said without a hint of sarcasm.

"Okay....," Ethan said slowly, carefully. He was surprised by the easy acceptance. He had expected another argument (because when  _didn't_ they have one?), that he was a little blindsided by it. So, of course the first thing he tried was to push his luck.

"And clean up my room too."

"No fucking way."

Oh, okay. Grayson's still normal. So, Ethan only rolled his eyes and threw himself onto the couch as Grayson cleaned up his mess. The petals had scattered at the spot where the foyer meet their living room, so Ethan could watch Grayson clean up the petals.

After he settled, he looked at Grayson's prescribed medicines on the table. They were just for coughs and sore throat, also another medicine in a pill bottle that he couldn't read the label of since it was turned away. Probably just antibiotics. They were all prescribed by a doctor, so Ethan had to wonder if Grayson had felt bad enough that he went to a doctor to get checked out. They don't usually go to the doctor, not in LA. If they need to get their checkups or anything on their general health, they try to always do that back in New Jersey, with their own family doctor.

His sight then moved to the small plastic bag containing Grayson's cough drops and lozenges he had bought, wondering what he was going to do with them now.

He heard Grayson cough. He was a little worried since that cough had sounded a little different than Grayson's usual cough, but when he turned around, Grayson already kept on cleaning, his hand already putting more petals into the paper bag.

"Hey, what am I going to do with the cough drops and the lozenges I bought for you?" Ethan had to ask. "You got your medicines now. You don't need them anymore, do you?"

Grayson then finally looked up from the floor, looking back at Ethan.

"Where did you put them?" Grayson asked back. Ethan pointed at the table, towards the small, white plastic bag.

"There."

"Leave it," Grayson said as he returned to cleaning up the petals. "I'll put them to the medicine box later. One of us will probably need it before they expire anyway."

"Alright. What are you going to do with those petals?"

"Throw them away."

Ethan frowned. He thought that seemed like a waste. Those petals have nice scent!

"Hey, here's an idea. Why don't we put them in one of those crystal glasses or something? They look pretty and smell good. Nice interior décor, right?"

"They're  _trash_ , Ethan," Grayson replied, his tone really putting the emphasis on the  _trash_.

"C'mon, they smell good! I like things that smell good," Ethan insisted, now standing up and going closer to where his brother was squatting.

"They're  _trash!_ "

"They're  _flower petals._  This is the nature shit you're supposed to like. We can at least keep them until the smell's gone."

"Still  _fucking trash_. I'll be the one to clean it up  _again_ when they dry off _,_ E."

Ethan frowned again. Okay, maybe point. He was about to make a counterpoint, but Grayson was already standing up, petals are now gone from the floor. He didn't think Gray would be so... _stingy_ , about the petals. He was just going to throw them away!

"At least let me have some, just for one glass. Do we have a crystal glass? I wanna put it in my room. You always complain about my room having a  _smell_ , at least this time it'll be natural, fresh, and  _flowery_ instead of the artificial freshener."

" _Fuck_  no."

"Oh, come on! Now you're just being stubborn!" Ethan groused. "Remember your weird Japanese dresser and the matching divider-slash-round-whatever thingy? We found them in a literal junkyard, so  _they_  were  _trash_ too! And I  _helped_ you move them into your room!"

"That and this are two different things. That dresser was still perfectly functional and a work of  _art_.  _This_ is just  _trash_."

If Ethan had known Grayson would be this stubborn about the petals, he would've gathered them himself in the first place. At least then Grayson wouldn't be able to say anything if Ethan wanted to keep them. Finders keepers and all that. To be honest though, he also felt Grayson was overacting a  _lot_. They're just  _petals_. They're like, incapable of  _not_ being pretty and be decorative. And they also smell so  _fucking good_. Usually, Grayson would be the one into that kind of shit, nature and flowers and whatever, not  _Ethan_. Surely it makes sense why Ethan felt Grayson's stubbornness about the petals were low key  _weird_.

So of course, Ethan had to be stubborn back.

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Give that to me, Grayson!"

"They're  _trash,_ Ethan!"

Ethan reached around Grayson, trying to lock his movement with his hand and arms and whatever limbs he can reach while reaching out to the paper bag, while Grayson kept evading and twisting and kept the paper bag away  _like a child_. Both of them even fell to the floor together, but no one was relenting and Grayson kept trying to keep the paper bag as far away as possible.

"Give!"

"NO!"

Grayson managed to get out of Ethan's weight, sliding back on his butt and putting as much distance as he could from Ethan. Ethan glared from his position on the floor, getting ready to tackle Grayson again, before suddenly Grayson stilled and brought the paper bag to his mouth and  _coughed_ into it. A series of coughs that brought Ethan some concern, because it sounded kind of different from Grayson's usual coughs.

Also,  _ew...._

Well, that was one way to deter Ethan. The petals now have to be filled with germs, mucus, saliva.... Just _, ew._

Grayson seemed to realize this too, because after his coughs subsided, he also added the most obnoxious sound. Like he was  _spitting_ into the  _paper bag_.  ** _Paper. Bag._**

"Why!? Just, why, Grayson? Why are you so disgusting!? They're  _good_  flower petals!"

Grayson, the little  _shit_ , grinned smugly and said, "Because they're  _trash,_ that's why."

Then, he proceeded to head to the front door to throw the petals into the trash bin outside. Like Ethan would ever touch that paper bag  _now_.

And Grayson said Ethan was  _extra?_  Ha! The whole fight over flower  _fucking_ petals, that's probably another level of  _extra_.

Ethan stared sadly at the blue petal he still kept with him. At least he still has this one petal. Once he knows what flower it comes from, he can just buy more. Maybe even shove a bouquet of into Grayson's face as retaliation. That'll be funny.

Ethan chuckled to himself as went to his room and placed the petal inside an empty small-sized water bottle, far too big for just one petal. But, at least that means Grayson won't see it, not immediately.

That's enough for right now.

* * *

Grayson chucked the petal-filled paper bag into the trash bin, feeling satisfied by the action. He'd probably feel more satisfied if he could just burn it, but unfortunately, there's fire code for such things.

He coughed again, petals spilling into his open hand. He threw those petals into the trash bin too, after crushing them in his fisted hand. To have Ethan see those petals, liking them, liking their  _scent_...

One would think it would make him happy. Or flattered. Instead, he just felt  _angry_.

_How dare, how dare this disease-_

It just made Grayson wanted to cry out of frustration.

He knew the right thing to do was to tell Ethan. But, he couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear the thought of Ethan,  _accepting_ his love because there was no other choice. His heart will only break further, when the disease doesn't disappear when Ethan was forced to say 'I love you, too'.

So, Ethan shouldn't ever know. If needed, Grayson would look for his own apartment before he gets too bad. Ethan can handle their channel on his own. He'll need to get used to it, for when Grayson dies. He'll leave letters,  _notes_ , explaining how no one was at fault, besides himself.

He'll need to finish his every business he has so he can die in  _peace_.

He has a plan now. That's good. Dr. Anthony probably wouldn't agree it was a  _good_  plan, but that's okay. Grayson wasn't much of a planner anyway. That's Ethan's job. So, just having  _a plan_  is good enough now.

Plan made, Grayson headed back into the house and about to gather his medicine from the table. Ethan then came out and sat on the couch.

"Hey, what's that medicine for?" Ethan asked, pointing toward the innocuous bottle of pills. Grayson looked at the label on the bottle, since he didn't really remember which was which.

"An antidepressant," Grayson answered, remembering that Dr. Anthony did say he prescribed him one since anxiety and panic attacks can make the disease get worse  _faster_. "I had a panic attack earlier today so-"

Grayson only realized what he said when he saw Ethan's eyes widened. He quickly cut himself off with a hand to slap his  _stupid mouth_ close. He saw Ethan's lips opening, probably about to ask  _questions_.

Grayson ran towards his room before he could hear it.

**TBC**


	3. Floundering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Grayson," Ethan said again, in that same calm tone he used before. "Open your door right the fuck now or I'm going to break this glass. I'm not kidding."
> 
> Ethan might get a little extra at times, but he wasn't the kind of person that actually relish in damage and destruction. So—
> 
> "You're bluffing."
> 
> "Try me."

Running away was not the best idea Grayson had, because not only he made Ethan  _super suspicious_  (and  _worried),_ Ethan was also perfectly capable of chasing after him and  _break down his door_.

Well, it's not broken  _yet,_ but it was probably a matter of time.

Really, the fact Grayson even locked his door was probably enough to make Ethan suspicious. Neither of them ever locked their door to each other,  _ever_. Ethan did once when they were young, just trying out this new feature they got when they were given their own rooms and he wanted to see what would Grayson do. Grayson had  _bawled_ his eyes out and had a minor breakdown, and Ethan never locked his door again. Grayson himself never locked his door because his claustrophobic ass didn't like being locked in for extended periods of time and have no way out.

So yeah, locking his door was probably another bad move on Grayson's part. Because now, in addition of the lock, he also had to plant his feet with his back leaning right on the door, hoping it'll add some sort of reinforcement for the door even though his knees felt weak. He was really feeling the hard tremors on his back as Ethan kept on pounding on his door.

"YOU HAD A PANIC ATTACK AND YOU DIDN'T SAY  _ANYTHING_ , GRAYSON!? WHAT THE  _FUCK_! OPEN THE  _FUCKING_   ** _DOOR_**!"

The last four bangs were especially loud and hard, timed with his last four words. Grayson prayed his door could hold on with the abuse Ethan was giving to it.

"It was  _nothing_!" Grayson yelled back unconvincingly, feeling slightly desperate because Ethan was  _relentless_. "It was just—"

"NOTHING!?" Ethan yelled back. "IF IT WAS NOTHING YOU WOULDN'T  _RUN_ **_AWAY_**!"

_See_? Running was his worst impulsive decision  _ever_. He could've stayed and explained how much it was just  _nothing_  and  _maybe_ Ethan would listen calmly, maybe be worried for a bit and asked a few questions, but he wouldn't be trying to break down his door and  _maybe_ he can be convinced on how  _okay_ Grayson was, _definitely not coughing up **petals** and **dying** at **all**._

But, because he  _ran_ , now Ethan was suspicious and  _scared_. The scared part was probably the part Grayson was most afraid of, because Ethan could be unpredictable when  _scared,_ at least when it was for Grayson.

"I'm fine, Ethan!" he tried uselessly, his tone raspy and very much unconvincing because the whole situation he put himself in was the  _furthest_ away from  _calming_ and the  _fucking petals_ are just _scattering_ around his floor now. "Just—leave me alone!"

So, the fact Grayson kept coughing wasn't helping him on getting his voice steady enough to even try and convince Ethan. He knew he sounded like he was choking and halfway towards crying already. He certainly felt like crying, because  _by God, the one time he'd like Ethan to leave him alone—!_

"FUCK  _NO_!" Ethan exclaimed loudly,  _determinedly_.  ** _Angrily_.** Grayson was actually afraid if Ethan would  _really_ break down his door. "I  _am_ getting  _in_ ,  _Bro_. And  _you **will**_ tell me  _everything._ "

Grayson never knew before how  _threatening_ the word ' _bro_ ' could sound.

But then, there was silence from the other side of his door. Hoping that Ethan just left felt too optimistic. But, not knowing what his brother was planning also made Grayson nervous. There were spare keys, but neither of them ever had any use of them so only the keys to the front door and back door were safely stored. They should still exist, but Ethan wasn't much of a meticulous person, he would give up in the first minute of searching for the right key, if he even knew where to start searching. So, what was he—

_Windows!_

Grayson quickly ran to his sliding door that immediately connected to the pool area. He hurriedly banged it shut and locked it, just in time as Ethan was about to slide it open. He  _probably_ almost broke Ethan's fingers, but since he didn't, he figured it was fine. However, with only glass between them, he could see Ethan's face and Ethan could see  _his_.

Whatever face Ethan was seeing, it was obvious he didn't like it. Grayson watched his brother's eyes widened before the lines on his face turned to worry, then frustration, then fear and  _anger_.

"Open the  _fucking door,_ Grayson!" Ethan yelled out, shaking the locked glass door in frustration. " _You_ are  _not fucking **fine**_! This is  _fucking **childish**  _and you are _**scaring**  me!"_

And, to make matters worse, he had petals  _stuck_ in his throat that he  _couldn't_ let out, because  _now_ Ethan would  _see_. He couldn't speak, couldn't defend himself, not right now, not while he had  _petals_ in his _throat._  So, while he tried to balance the glass door with one hand, trying to keep it still so  _maybe_ Ethan  _wouldn't_ break the glass with all his shaking, his other hand had to settle over his own mouth to stave off his coughing.

"I'm serious, Grayson! Open the fucking  _door!"_

Grayson kept shaking his head, desperate for Ethan to  _leave him the fuck alone_. But, he could feel his eyes getting teary because staving off a cough is  _hard_ and his throat was starting to really  _hurt,_ he knew he was really making things  _worse_.

Because he was a man with  _common sense_ , he quickly pulled at the blinders all the way, until all he could see was Ethan's shadow and his bare feet at the bottom of the blinders. He could hear Ethan's incredulous exclamation as he closed the blinds on Ethan's face. Grayson then backed away slowly, trying to control his coughing so he wouldn't  _actually_ hack out a lung. Or a full head of flower. He shouldn't be, not this early, he's still on his fucking  _first day_  for  _gosh_ sake, but it certainly felt like he would. Especially with all the  _stress._

Closing the blinders didn't exactly help much. It probably wasn't all that smart either, since Ethan obviously saw his wet eyes already. Closing the blinds wouldn't change what Ethan already saw. It wasn't a good, nice,  _healthy_  picture. Even he knew how  _sketchy_  he was acting.

He couldn't exactly help it, though. He felt so  _desperate_. Ethan was probably the only  _person_  out of  _everyone_ in the  _entire fucking world_  he'd really like  _not_ to know about his disease. He just knew, once he told Ethan about his attack earlier today, it  _would_ devolve into talking about his  _disease_. Because he wouldn't be able to  _not tell_. After all, he had panicked  _because_ he coughed up his first flower petal. Then, it would devolve even further and Grayson just didn't want that to happen.  _That_ information was between him and Dr. Anthony, though even that already felt one person too many.

Still, how could he be so fucking  _bad_ at keeping secrets from Ethan? Case in point.

"Grayson,  _please_ ," Ethan begged from the other side of the glass door. "I'm worried, bro. What the fuck is going on?"

Grayson could see from the shape of Ethan's shadow that his brother was hanging his head, both hands leaning on the glass door. His shoulders were slumped and they looked like  _dejection_.

"I'm fine, Ethan," Grayson tried again, though he felt guilty for scaring his brother. His voice still sounded a little hoarse, but hopefully, it still sounded better. "Can we talk tomorrow?"

Preferably  _never_ , but tomorrow was a good enough compromise. At least Grayson could prepare his excuse and actually calm himself and  _things_. Have some time to get a cover story or something. Contact Dr. Anthony and hope he won't mind  _covering_ his cover story. Maybe he'll even get some google tips on  _how to lie believably to your brother_.

"...Okay," Ethan eventually replied in that calm voice that Grayson never could trust. Because Ethan used that tone when knew that was what Grayson wanted to hear and was giving concession so he could  _bargain_  with Grayson. And it usually ended up with Grayson getting a much shorter end of the stick.

"Alright, Gray," Ethan said again, his shadow moving to stand straighter, but not moving away from the glass door. "Tomorrow. But, at least tell me right now you're not actually dying, okay? You're totally scaring me, bro."

Grayson felt like hitting his head to the wall. Or Ethan's head. Preferably Ethan's, because  _why_ would he ask that  _now?_

Just as Grayson was thinking on how he should answer that in a way that can, maybe,  _de-escalate_ the whole situation, his silence was already telling. Grayson saw the moment Ethan's posture entirely tensed up, even when all he saw was his brother's shadow.

"Grayson, tell me you're not dying," Ethan practically ordered, using that silent tone that he always had when angry.

"I'm not...,"  _dying,_ he couldn't say it, it was such a  _lie_. He just couldn't blatantly  _say_  it. He needed...  _other_ ways of saying it.

"Grayson," Ethan's tone sounded like the calm before the storm and the slight low growl as he said Grayson's name felt like thunder. "Are. You.  _Dying_?"

"...No?" Grayson tried and hated how it came out like a question. "I mean, n-no! O-of course I'm not!"

Even though he tried to follow up, Grayson just  _knew_ he failed, utterly and devastatingly, at keeping his secret from his brother. And it's not even a  _day_ yet.

If it was about anything else, it would just be embarrassing. But, because it was about what it was, Grayson only felt terrified. Just pure, irrational dread. He just  _knew_ he wouldn't be able to keep his disease a secret for much longer.

Didn't mean Grayson wouldn't try anyway. He was stubborn like that.

"Grayson," Ethan said again, in that same calm tone he used before. "Open your door right the  _fuck_   **now**  or I'm going to  _break_  this glass. I'm not  _kidding_."

Ethan might get a little extra at times, but he wasn't the kind of person that  _actually_  relish in damage and destruction. So—

"You're bluffing."

"Try me."

Grayson knew Ethan  _can_ do that. He has enough arm strength and even if he doesn't, there were rocks he can use to break his glass. He just didn't know if his brother will  _really_ do that. Sure, there was a time when Ethan did break a glass window, but at the time he wasn't thinking clearly and had been pretty frustrated. He didn't  _plan_ to do that. It was a different situation.

Right now, Ethan was still thinking. Angry, frustrated, even  _scared_ , but clearly still thinking.

"You won't do it," Grayson tried to sound confident, but he wasn't sure. Ethan  _might_ actually break down his glass door. He slowly backed further away, just in case, inching more towards his bathroom door.

"You have until the count of three, Grayson."

"Ethan, you can't be—"

"One."

"That's destruction of property!"

"Two."

"I am  _not_ opening  _anything!"_

"Three. Get the fuck out of the way."

"You're not going to—"

The loud crash of his glass door shattering cut him off.

* * *

Any other day, Ethan would feel bad and guilty about destroying a perfectly good sliding door. The fact it was made of glass really opened up Grayson's whole room. He liked that door, liked that he could get into Grayson's room right after they finished swimming or just playing in the pool and he could simply invade Grayson's bathroom. Moreover, since it was Grayson's room, he only had to put up with a little nagging before Grayson would just clean up the pool water dripping from Ethan's wet body himself.

But now, just as the glass shattered and Ethan entered Grayson's room, he couldn't muster up any guilt, especially when he saw a glimpse of Grayson quickly bolting into his bathroom and slammed the door shut, the sound of the door locking was becoming another sound Ethan absolutely  _hates_. It was right  _there_ , on par now with the sound of people chewing.

Ethan gritted his teeth, jaw clenching tight. The bits and pieces of glass were dangerous, scattering on the floor right where Ethan made his opening. Ethan took a pair of sandals they kept around the pool area to protect his feet from the glass fragments. He also tightened the shirt he had worn, now wrapped protectively and thickly around his right hand up to his forearm. He learned  _that_ lesson from the last time he tried punching at a glass surface. Now, he also had a medium-sized rock, enough to help him knock down the glass while not being too heavy or too big that he had to hold it with both hands.

As he walked across Grayson's room, he only noticed the petals scattered around his brother's floor absently. He had a flash of thought, thinking something was weird, but he was too worried, too _scared_ for Grayson to actually give more thought to it. At the end of the day, they were just flower petals.

_Grayson_ was his  _twin_. He might be  _dying_. For reasons  _Grayson_ wouldn't say, would  _lock_ his door for when his claustrophobic  _ass_ never liked it. More importantly, whatever was happening with Grayson, it was enough that he would  _run_ from  ** _Ethan_** _._  

_Grayson_ , who always told Ethan  _every, little,_ ** _thing_. **From his nightmares, dreams,  _feelings_ , to the odd TMI personal  _shit_ like when Grayson found a weird crease on his left buttcheek. Nothing was  _ever_ too personal between them.

A part of Ethan was still in denial.  _Grayson couldn't actually be dying, could he? He's just hiding something, nervous about hiding it, that was all. Grayson can't be_ ** _dying_.**

Still, the thought settled and fear already filled his mind. He remembered the desperation in Grayson's eyes, at that moment when their eyes met through the glass, and he intended to  _push_  until his brother give in and just  _tell him_.

_How could Grayson expect Ethan to leave his brother alone when he was so **scared**?_

But, for now, Ethan held on to his  _anger_. With that anger, he used the rock still held in his wrapped hand to break the knob off the bathroom door. His other hand was ready below the knob, in case he would need to catch it when it falls to the floor. One hit was all it took before all he had to do was push the door open. Even from the first step, he noticed the trail of flower petals, leading to the sound of coughing.

Ethan now couldn't help but feel the weirdness of the flower petals he kept seeing. Even without touching them, even though all he ever actually held with his own fingers were only the blue petals, he knew the petals scattered among the glass shards in Grayson's room came from the same place as the petals he found earlier today in the foyer. The same petals that made the abstract trail inside Grayson's bathroom.

When he reached the shower stall, where the coughing kept on going, he saw a closed door.  _Again_. He could see the shape of his brother through the frosted glass, sitting on the floor with his knees against his chest.

"Please, Ethan," he heard Grayson begged from inside the shower stall. "Leave me  _alone_."

Ethan could hear how his voice was shaking. Inside the bathroom, that tremble only sounded clearer and  _echoed_.

So of course, he pulled the frosted glass door open instead.

More flower petals surrounded Grayson's form. His head was bent between his knees and his fingers tangled together, resting at the back of his head almost protectively.

Ethan lowered himself to one knee. His right hand reached and settled on the back of Grayson's hand, over Grayson's hands. Ethan got even more concerned when he could feel the slight clamminess and coolness of Grayson's hands. Grayson then let his hands go down, wrapping them around his knees instead. Ethen then gently pulled at his hair, so his twin would lift his head and look at Ethan. Grayson resisted a little, but Ethan tightened his grip and Grayson relented.

Grayson lifted his head and Ethan could finally see his brother's eyes.

"Grayson, what's going on?"

 

**TBC**


	4. Fluctuating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His brother can't be dying.
> 
> He can't.
> 
> He just CAN'T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of Ethan, and somehow I find him... challenging, to write here.

_“Grayson, what’s going on?”_

Grayson stared back at Ethan’s face, his twin’s eyes were staring right at him. He could see the worry, the fear, beneath the veneer of Ethan’s determined glare.

Looking right at Ethan’s eyes like this only made it harder to lie to his face.

Still, he _really_ didn’t want _Ethan to **know**_.

He thought of pushing Ethan. After all, he was still the stronger one between them both. He could push Ethan away. But, Grayson couldn’t think of anywhere else he could run. He also didn’t know what Ethan would do after, and having no idea of what it is made him nervous.

Short of running away from home and going literally into hiding, he couldn’t think of any scenario where Ethan wouldn’t catch him immediately. At least, not when he was so determined and serious like this.

Right now, Ethan blocked his only exit from the shower stall. He felt the hand that was gripping his hair moving downwards in a soft, familiar caress, before settling firmly on the nape of his neck. He literally couldn’t run anywhere now. Though, it was also a familiar gesture that would’ve comforted him in any other situation. If he had been stressing about anything else, Ethan’s touch would’ve been something he welcomed with open arms, something he’d embrace and take for more.

He was trapped. He had nowhere to run. He didn’t _want_ Ethan to _see._

This close, he wouldn’t be able to hide the petals when he coughed them up. And, he would, he could feel it in his throat. His sight was starting blur on the edges, and he could feel a tear already falling off his left eye. He didn’t know what expression his face was wearing, but just by looking at Ethan, he knew his expression matched the wetness in his eyes.

When he coughed, he tried to bow his head down, hide his face between his knees. But, Ethan was right in front of him, kneeling close to him, their position just didn’t allow him to actually hide it. Ethan wouldn’t let him hide his face either, observing close like he was afraid Gray was coughing up blood.

Blood would probably easier, honestly.

If it was just once, a single cough, Grayson could probably… deflect, somehow. He didn’t know exactly what he could say, but maybe he could’ve hidden a single _petal_. Pretend a petal got into his mouth, or something. But, he was coughing repeatedly, _harshly_ , enough to hurt his throat and the _petals_ that came out just couldn’t have been petals placed inside his mouth. They all came from his throat.  Ethan would absolutely see that. He could feel it, see it from the corner of his eyes, the way Ethan’s whole body seemed to freeze when petals flew out of his mouth with every cough.

Grayson couldn’t look at Ethan again, but he could feel his twin’s familiar hand rubbing at his back, an instinctive attempt to soothe him. He could feel it shaking. He could hear Ethan’s voice taking on that freaked-out tone, even though he seemed like trying to keep his calm, asking questions Grayson just didn’t know how to answer.

“Grayson, _please,”_ he heard Ethan begged. “What the _fuck_ is going _on?_ Why are you—what is _this?_ Why are you coughing up _flower petals?_ Are you fucking with me? What the _fuck_ is _happening,_ Gray? _”_

Ethan’s voice was shaking, he sounded so _scared_. This close with Ethan, just a slight tilt of his head was enough for him to see how his twin’s shoulders were trembling. When his eyes trailed up more towards Ethan’s face, he knew something had to give.

Ethan looked… Confused. Scared.

 _Lost_.

Grayson knew he had to tell Ethan.

Ethan’s hands have moved to both sides of Grayson’s face. His thumbs were under Grayson’s eyes, rubbing away the wet trail there. His palms were warm on his cheek. His hold was gentle, but firm and unyielding. Somehow, Grayson’s hands found their way to settle on Ethan’s elbows, not knowing if it was to push Ethan away or tug him closer.

“Tell me,” Ethan ordered.

Grayson didn’t want to. He really didn’t. But, Ethan was looking right at him. His twin’s hands holding his face still so he couldn’t look away from Ethan. Grayson knew he couldn’t keep his silence anymore, no matter how he felt about it. Not when he could see so _clearly,_ so _close,_ how _scared_ Ethan was for him.

So, he opened his mouth and started talking _._

* * *

Nothing that came out of Grayson’s mouth made sense right now.

As Grayson talked, Ethan found himself sitting down on the cold, linoleum floor. His hands were no longer gripping on his twin’s face. Instead, they had fallen down, laying limp on his lap, until his right hand found Grayson’s left hand and automatically tangled their fingers together. It wasn’t even a conscious decision on his part. It was just something that happened. An instinct too ingrained whenever their hands meet.

Ethan wasn’t entirely focused on Grayson’s explanation. His mind somehow fixated on how numb his butt felt, sitting on the bathroom floor like he was doing, instead of listening to the words Grayson was speaking. His bare torso was starting to get cold. He was also feeling the clamminess of Grayson’s hand in his grip. The faint smell of flower petals had been in and out of his senses, though he still couldn’t figure out what kind of flower could have such scent. Even though he now knew where they came from, it still didn’t quite… register yet, in his brain. For him, those petals still smelt as good, felt as soft, as before. They were flower _petals._

It didn’t make _sense_.

 _Hanahaki_ disease. What even is that? It didn’t even _sound_ real. Who the _fuck_ coughed up flowers?

Well, Grayson apparently does.

The details still escaped him, no matter how Grayson explained it. How _the hell_ can a flower—or _flowers—_ grow _inside_ a person? And then coughed up, without a hint plain human _gross_ innards? _How_ does that _work?_ Just—

_What the fuck?_

He wondered if someone slipped him some hallucinogen or something. Or, maybe, he was _dreaming_.

Unfortunately, it was very real. He was wide-awake and had watched Grayson coughed up _flower petals_. Petals that he didn’t hallucinate or dream of. It couldn’t be a prank either, Grayson couldn’t have kept all those petals in his mouth. Unless Grayson was craftier than he thought, it was impossible that Grayson shoved all those petals into his throat just to prank him. For a hot second, he thought Grayson was actually coughing up a part of his lungs or his throat muscle or something. When he realized those were _flower petals_ Grayson had coughed up, Ethan didn’t know what to think _._ His mind had blanked. He didn’t _understand._

And Grayson was _shit_ at explaining it. It was a disease? _One-sided love?_ What the _fuck?_

“Where’s your phone?” Ethan asked suddenly when silence settled over them both. Grayson frowned at him, confused, but then he pulled out his phone from his pocket with his free hand. The screen was black and wouldn’t turn on.

“Uh, I guess it died already… Why?”

“I need my phone,” Ethan announced to no one. He stood up, hand still gripping on Grayson’s own tightly.

“What?” Grayson exclaimed in surprise when Ethan suddenly stood up, tugging at their tangled hands with him when he moved to stand. Ethan didn’t know why he didn’t feel like letting go, even when all he had to do was to loosen his hold and Grayson’s hand will slip away on its own. After all, the only one grasping was Ethan. Grayson’s hand was limp, even with their fingers tangling together.

“Come on, I need my phone and google _what the fuck_ this disease is. I was charging it in my room,” Ethan explained, still pulling until Grayson stood up too, using Ethan’s hold to pull himself up. He had to tighten his hold on Ethan’s hand, which somehow felt slightly satisfying. So was the confusion on Grayson’s _stupid_ face.

“What does that—“

“You’re coming,” Ethan said, pulling at Grayson’s hand again so he would follow Ethan when he started walking towards the door. “And you’ll stay in my room until _we_ figure out what to do about this disease. I’ll fucking tie you to my bed if you try to run _again,_ I’m not kidding, Grayson.”

Grayson looked like he wanted to protest, but he then he just pursed his lips and didn’t argue, trailing after Ethan obediently besides the occasional coughing. The trail of petals he left was… Ethan didn’t know yet what to feel about that. He felt that he was going to freak out again, so he tried to think of other things. Anything else.

Like mourning his shirt that he left on the floor of Grayson’s bathroom, somewhere. It was a good and expensive shirt, though it probably has a lot of glass fragments stuck in it now. And, he probably should think about the bathroom door and the glass he broke, too.

Ethan kept leading his twin through the room, sticking close to the opposite side of the shattered glass, careful of any scattered pieces on the floor that might stray away from the broken door. At least Grayson was still wearing his shoes. Also, the room was a little cool, since the wind had been flowing in freely into the room from the outside. Night time in LA wasn’t always warm. It seems tonight it will get colder.

Grayson suddenly tugged at their intertwined hands, stopping Ethan from taking another step before they reached Grayson’s locked door.

“We need to cover that,” Grayson pointed to the glass door Ethan had broken with his free hand. “Things could get in and it’s already dark out. It’s not safe.”

Ethan frowned, a surge of annoyance and a little bit of his earlier anger returning. He was just thinking of the same thing and Grayson wasn’t wrong. It was getting dark. Grayson’s room was chilly already because of the wind coming in. But, Ethan also couldn’t care less about it _now,_ beyond giving it a passing thought.

Logically, he knew he _should_ fix the glass, the door, even clean the glass fragments as soon as possible because they were _dangerous_ if left alone for too long, but he just couldn’t _care_. They didn’t _feel_ important, not right then. Not in that minute. Getting to his phone was more important. He needed more information on this _disease_ that apparently was killing _Grayson_.

 _How can Grayson care about a door when he’s_ **dying?**

Ethan tightened his grip slightly before loosening it a bit again, pulling a little in a wordless order for Grayson to _keep following him_.

“I’ll do it later,” Ethan said stiffly. “I broke it, I’ll fix it. But, I need my phone _now_.”

Grayson’s eyebrows scrunched together, though he didn’t say anything else. Ethan thought he might going to argue and insist they should fix it _now_. Instead, he looked down _guiltily_ , his grasp on Ethan’s hand loosening again before saying a soft “Okay.”

Ethan didn’t want Grayson to feel guilty. He wanted to _understand_. He wanted Grayson to explain _more_ , rather than saying things like _he’s in a one-sided love and it’s **killing** him_. A literal, actual _death_ and not just in a figure of speech kind of way _._ He needed more information on this _hanahaki_ thing, what _exactly_ it entailed, what the _fuck_ it actually meant. And, most importantly, _how to make it go away._

There was a part of Ethan that wanted to say _something,_ ask more if Grayson was _sure_ he’s actually _dying_ and not exaggerating, or even _joking._ But, with Grayson looking down on the floor and not being _himself_ , he swallowed the question and clenched his jaw. It was a stupid question. Grayson wouldn’t go this far, not for a joke. It was also more likely for Grayson to _downplay_ than exaggerate.

Ethan roughly unlocked Grayson’s door, half-hoping it will somehow break from his rough treatment. It didn’t break, which was disappointing, but he didn’t linger and he led them both towards the hall, heading for his room, his legs moving faster, forcing Grayson to keep up.

Grayson still held his hand loosely, just resting in Ethan’s grip and not grasping back. His fingers were curled without pressure on Ethan’s knuckles. He just let Ethan pulled at his arm.

In his frustration, Ethan slammed his own door open. It banged loudly against the wall. If he was a little calmer, he would be worried about the state of his wall and the door. But, right now, he hated the mere sight of it.

He also hated Grayson’s silence behind him.

He didn’t know why he was bothered by the thought on how Grayson usually held his hand as tighter than the weak grip holding his hand now. He was the more excitable one, louder and more tactile between them both. He was _stronger_ than Ethan. But, right now, it felt like Grayson wasn’t even _trying_ to hold onto him _back_. That feeling made him tighten his hold, practically squeezing hard on Grayson’s hand, enough for his twin to flinch in pain.

“Ow, _ow,_ Ethan!” Grayson complained, but his complaint was weak. Half-hearted. Not loud or even slightly offended.

Ethan _hated_ it.

“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?” Ethan asked harshly, turning and glaring at Grayson. He only loosened his hold only enough not to be painful, but still tight enough to be uncomfortable. “You _lied_ to me when you asked for those cough drops, didn’t you? You used the trick I used before. _Why?_ ”

Grayson wouldn’t meet Ethan’s eyes, not answering and just looked away.

“Well!?” Ethan demanded louder, tightening his grip again. There was a twinge of guilt when Grayson flinched again, but _goddamn it,_ what else was Ethan was supposed to _do_ to make Grayson _speak_?

“I told you already,” Grayson answered _meekly_ , looking down as if they were still in _high school_. “It wasn’t exactly easy to explain the hanahaki disease. And—I didn’t _want_ you to know. It was a stupid disease, E. All because I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back.”

Ethan felt his jaw clenching again. Yeah, it was stupid, _sounded_ stupid, but if Grayson was really dying, then not telling his _twin **brother** _was the _stupidest_ thing he could’ve done. He should’ve just told Ethan, the _second_ he knew he was _dying_. Still, his mind just couldn’t _comprehend_ it, beyond the fear of the thought that _Grayson is going to die_.

It just didn’t make _any_ **_sense_**.

Both of them had their fair share of one-sided love. From the moment they hit puberty, understanding and liking girls as _girls_ , they’ve liked _lots_ of girls, and not all of them wanted to be their girlfriend. Some of them might’ve broken their heart, a few even had been either knowingly or unknowingly cruel to them in their rejection. But, none of them _ever_ ended in _imminent **death**_.

Ethan told his twin as much.

“Explain it _better_ , you’re not making _sense,”_ Ethan almost growled out. His tone was certainly low enough. He stomped towards where he charged his phone, tugging Grayson again with him. “We’ve had one-sided love before. _I’ve_ had one-sided love before. Hell, I’m still crushing _hard_ on Nikki, and _that’s_ certainly one-sided! But, I _certainly_ never suffered this _hamanaki—“_

“Hanahaki.”

 _“—Hanahaki_ , whatever. I obviously never got it.”

“…It’s different, E,” Ethan heard Grayson said, his voice still sounded low and definitely _below_ his normal tone _and volume_. He sounded _fragile_. Ethan gritted his teeth again, his phone finally in his free hand.

_Stupid brother. Stupid disease. Stupid, stupid, **stupid!**_

He sat on the edge of his bed, pulling at their tangled hands again so his twin would sit beside him. Ethan couldn’t help his annoyance again when Gray had resisted, even though he did follow Ethan’s pull soon after. But, when Grayson sat down, he took care to leave a little _space_ between them. Less than an inch, but there was _space_. Nothing of them touched, besides their hands that Ethan still held in his tight grip.

For anyone else, it wouldn’t matter. It wasn’t something anyone would actually notice. But, Ethan’s mind was already in overdrive so he couldn’t help but _did._

Ethan _hated_ everything about this situation. _He_ was the one that supposed to tell Grayson when he was sitting too close, while Grayson would either respond by getting obnoxiously clingier or pretend to back off only to kick him later. Grayson wasn’t supposed to—

“Why are you sitting so far?” Ethan tried to pull Grayson closer by pulling their hands towards him. But, Grayson wasn’t budging. His lips were pursed, body tense and he was frowning at Ethan.

“I’m literally sitting beside you,” Grayson argued stubbornly. “How am I—Just, whatever. Google the shit already, since you think I’ve been I’m too stupid to explain it right.”

Ethan couldn’t figure out why he kept getting _annoyed_. The fear, the panic, they were all still in the back of his mind. He just couldn’t _focus_ on Grayson being gone from his life. It couldn’t register in his brain. His mind just desperately avoided focusing on the idea. It didn’t feel like it could be _real_.

Then, there was Grayson’s attitude that Ethan still had a hard time understanding. He literally _ran_ , locking himself in his room, in his _bathroom_. Even now, he was still trying to keep his distance from Ethan even with their hands tangled together. Ethan was squeezing his hand tight, probably a little too tight to be comfortable or _normal_ , and Grayson still wouldn’t say anything or retaliate, like squeezing back even harder. He was still barely holding Ethan’s hand.

Grayson might actually pull another runner if Ethan let go.

Ethan clenched his jaw again, turning his attention back to his phone and started browsing for this _hanahaki_ disease with only his free hand. He could feel Grayson was subtly trying to pull his hand away, to get Ethan to release his hand, but Ethan just squeezed harder until Grayson stopped.

Using only one hand led to plenty of typing mistake. Still, he found a page on _Hanahaki Disease_ soon enough.

It really was a legitimate disease. There was research about it in medical journals that Ethan just couldn’t be bothered to read thoroughly. For all he had trusted Grayson, there was a small part of him that hoped Grayson was just fucking with him. A prank, maybe. A terrible, thoughtless elaborate prank that Grayson should never do again for the rest of his life, but still, a _prank_.

A disease caused by one-sided love. It _does_ exist. And yeah, people _have_ died because of it. It was a fatal disease with four stages. There was no medicine for it, but there were still _cures_.

Surgery, or for their love to be returned.

Whoever broke Grayson’s heart and caused this disease in the first place didn’t deserve his brother, so he didn’t even think about that alternative. Surgery was their best bet. It even came with a side of losing the feeling and never loving that person again, either platonically or romantically, so that was a plus. That means Grayson would also instantly move on.

“There’s surgery,” Ethan said, slightly accusing even as he thrust his phone towards his silent brother. “You said there was no cure, you fucking _liar_.”

Grayson's eyes looked at the screen, before moving up to meet Ethan's eyes,  _finally_.

“I’m not having surgery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! 
> 
> ...please don't hate me?


	5. Freezing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you love someone your whole life, for so long, that you won't be who you are without it...
> 
> Is it better to die with that love
> 
> Or live without it, losing a big part of who you are?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated! Wooo~

If Grayson was ever asked the question,  _when did you fall in love with your brother_ , he wouldn’t know how to answer it. He didn’t know either when it started. After all, it had happened so gradually, it was impossible for him to pinpoint the  _when_.

The fact that loving Ethan was something he’d done even before he was born also didn’t help.

He could think of the signs, though. Things he had dismissed. Things he had felt and didn’t understand  _why_  he felt the way he did. Things he couldn’t always name. Things that, in hindsight, clearly wasn’t the things one should feel when it concerned one’s brother.

Like the pang he felt in his chest when he saw Ethan kissing a girl. Or, the feeling of wanting to monopolize Ethan’s attention when there was a girl Ethan seemed to pay close attention to. Or, feeling that ugly feeling he later learned as jealousy when Ethan preferred the company of his date than Grayson.

Still, he knew how to be a good brother. He cheered Ethan on, ragged on him for kissing a girl. He teased Ethan when he was crushing on a girl and buried that ugly feeling deep in him, as he sent his brother to his date with a smile.

He did think that brothers probably don’t feel what he felt for Ethan. Many people he knew with brothers don’t feel like that with their brothers. He also knew Ethan was always a little bit more special than Cameron was to him, no matter how fond he was of his beautiful, brilliant sister. Still, he didn’t  _know_. He was also facing teenage problems, anxiety attacks, and the general feeling of displacement, of not having a place among his own peers. Feeling alone and lonely in the world with only his brother by his side, he never questioned if his feeling for his brother might not just be brotherly.

After all, it felt like Ethan was the only person he ever felt truly, undoubtedly connected with.

They were the closest people in the world. They weren’t just  _brothers_. They’re  _twins_. So, Grayson thought that was it. Ethan was his twin, so of course, he was  _special_.

Something just felt a little… different, from how he was told it should’ve felt.

There was something else, something  _more_. A shift happened, so slowly he didn’t notice it. When he realized what happened was he fellin _love_ , he’d already fallen too deep to back out. So much that when he realized it, instead of being horrified, everything just seemed to fall into place. Everything started to make  _sense_.

 _I love him_ , he thought then,  _I’m in love with him._

But, the revelation changed nothing besides the fact that Grayson can finally name it, that feeling he had been having.

He never really thought of confessing it to Ethan. He kept that one revelation to himself. It didn’t seem… important, back then. It was also something he didn’t think worth pursuing, worth risking their relationship for. What they have was more important. He himself dated other people, girls he thought he loved. After all, maybe it was just a phase. Maybe he was just confused. If he could just fall in love with someone else, maybe he would move on from Ethan. After all, any of them could be ‘the  _one'_.

That was when he learned he could love many people, but he could never be as in love or be as close to anyone as much as he does Ethan. It didn’t seem possible anymore that he could ever care for anyone more than he cares for Ethan.

He never expected Ethan to be in love with him back. He knew,  _understood_  very well, how that wasn’t something people  _do_. Still, he didn’t realize how he still  _hoped_ , that maybe,  _maybe_ , Ethan could feel the same for him, if only just for a little bit, until one day Ethan happily told him about his girlfriend, saying things like  _“You know I don’t say this lightly, bro. I really think she might be it!”_

So, with his heart feeling like it was sanded with glass shards, he put on a smile and congratulated him. Of course, he wasn’t much of a liar, so Ethan got worried when his expression didn’t match his words.

 _“I guess I just feel a bit lonely,”_ he told Ethan, not the truth but also not quite a lie. His brother assured him they’ll still hang out like usual, that nothing had to change. That he was still very important to Ethan. Assurances that sounded warm and comforting, but left him feeling cold and broken instead.

It was then when resignation turned to acceptance, and later he simply accepted this thought as an indomitable fact.

Ethan loves pineapple pizza. Ethan hates chewing sounds. Ethan will never be in love with his brother.

It hurts. He felt like he couldn’t breathe at times, but loving Ethan made him feel happy and  _alive_. So, he thought he could live with the hurt. He could  _learn_ to live with the hurt. Just like his asthma and his dyslexia, he’ll  _learn_ how to live with it. After all, Ethan may not love him like that, but they still love each other. They still support each other and be there for each other. That was the most important thing.

Grayson has loved his brother his whole life. To lose that… He might as well die.

* * *

 

_“I’m not having surgery.”_

 

Ethan was going to  _snap_.

“Why not?” Ethan asked through gritted teeth. “Sure, there were risks, but I thinkit’s still much better than  _death_.”

Grayson’s eyes shifted away.

“…I don’t want to.”

Ethan glared at his stupid,  _stubborn_ brother. He didn’t  _want_ to? What was that supposed to mean? Was he  _scared_?

“Look over here,” Ethan tugged Grayson closer as he opened a page on the statistic on those who survived through surgery, an attempt to convince Grayson there was nothing he should be worried about, “It said ninety-three percent of the people that went through surgery came out  _fine_. You’ll be fine! We’ll find the best surgeon for this. We’ll even empty our bank account if needed. I’ll be with you every step of the way, so let’s just do the surgery, okay?”

Ethan almost begged at the end. This was  _not_ the time for his brother to get stubborn. Surgery was their best choice. Their surefire way to get rid of this  _disease_. To keep Grayson  _alive_  and  _well_.

“I said no, Ethan.”

“But WHY!?” Ethan yelled out, frustration filling his tone. He was frustrated enough to jump to his feet, glaring at his brother even as his hand still refused to let Grayson’s hand go. “You’re not even considering it! Do you  _want_ to  _die?”_

“Of course not!”

“Then  _why_ the  _fuck_ won’t you do it!?”

“Because I don’t want to lose it!” Grayson yelled back, standing up too, now. Ethan watched, feeling like he lost his footing, as Grayson seemed to realize what he had said and bit his lips, looking away from Ethan.

“What do you mean by that?” Ethan growled, feeling his anger mounting again. “Lose  _what?_ ”

“The feeling,” his twin said, “I don’t want to lose it.”

Ethan couldn’t comprehend that. He couldn’t, for the life of him,  _understand_  what Grayson was trying to say. Did the disease get into his brain? How could he think that  _anyone_ , or anything like a  _goddamn unrequited ** **feeling****_ , could worth more than his own  _fucking ** **life****_!?

There is  _nothing_ in the  _world_  worth  _that_.

Ethan, of course, had to take a breath so he can sound more reasonable than angry. Apparently, he was currently the most reasonable one in the room.  _Grayson_ was too blinded by his  _romantic fucking heart._  Combined with his stubbornness, it didn't make for rational thought or decision.

So, he just has to make Grayson see  _reason_.

“Grayson,” Ethan started, hands now moved to clasp both sides of Grayson's jaw, forcing his twin to focus and  _listen_ to every word Ethan had to say, “Gray.  _Bro._  You're being  _stupid._  You got  _rejected_ , let it the  _fuck ** **go****_  and have the  _fucking surgery._ Don’t be so fucking  _selfish_.”

Ethan watched his twin biting his lips and his eyes darting away, but since Ethan was holding on to his face, there wasn’t anywhere he could look away to. Ethan gripped harder, forcing Grayson to look back at him again. He could see Grayson still won’t change his mind, so maybe his reason wasn’t reasonable enough for Grayson’s stubbornness.

Fine. He could out-stubborn his stubborn brother.

“If you love me, Grayson,” Ethan growled out, moving on to bargaining now, “Do  _not_ do this to me. Have the fucking  _surgery_!”

Impossibly,  _inconsiderately,_  Grayson let out a laugh. It was quick and short, and didn't sound nice in his ears.

“I didn’t realize how manipulative that sounds until you said it,” Grayson said, strangely light. “I feel kinda bad now.”

“Then have the surgery and we’ll be even,” Ethan said, still forcing the matter.

“No.”

“You keep saying that!” Ethan exclaimed, annoyed and so,  _so ** **frustrated****_ ** **.****

He hated this, hated the whole situation, the whole  _argument_.

Why were they even  _having_ this argument? Surgery is the most logical solution!

“Ethan, there aren’t a lot of things I wouldn’t do for you. But, they do exist,” Grayson said back. In any other situation, it would’ve been playful. But, the sight of Grayson’s slightly upturned lips only gave way to more frustration. “Just like you don’t do a lot of things for me.”

“I do a lot of things for you,” Ethan argued back, feeling indignant. He was sure he did plenty of things for Grayson. It just felt wrong to name each of them, because it wasn’t something he tallied. He doesn’t do that. And, his twin also has a tendency to forget them in their arguments, since most of the things he did were subtle things that Grayson didn't notice until he thinks back on it.

Grayson still had the corner of his mouth turned up.

“Yeah? Remember when I asked you to drink milk for me? You wouldn’t.”

Ethan couldn’t help it. Frustration and anger were building up in him. He felt like crushing something, so he had to let go of Grayson or he’d do something like squeezing his twin’s skull in or punching his face. Ethan wanted to shake Grayson’s head, scramble his brain a little so he would stop being so stubborn and fucking _unreasonable_. How could Grayson compare that to  _this_? There was no  _life_ on the line. There was no  _death_ involved!

“That and this are totally different things,” Ethan growled out evenly. Grayson shrugged his shoulder in reply, looking like he found his footing, no longer hesitant or defeated like a few minutes before. It was as if something had shifted in his mind and cemented his decision.

Ethan now feared there was nothing he could say that would change his mind.

Now, Ethan felt like he was the one that lost his footing. There was something like desperation now, drowning his anger and amplifying his fear.

“Do you want me to drink milk? I’ll drink it. I’ll drink a fucking gallon of it. Will you have surgery then?” Ethan asked seriously. Grayson’s reaction was only the widening of his weird smile. There was something like mirth in his eyes.

Did he think Ethan was kidding?

He pushed Grayson harshly, pinning him to the bed by his shoulders as Ethan moved to straddle him, knees pressed to his twin’s sides. The surprise on his face was a nicer change than the  _mirth_.

He was  _dying_. He was going to  _die_. How could he  _smile_ about it?

_You can’t leave me too. Not you._

“I’ll drink ten gallons of milk if you’ll have the surgery,” Ethan said again, looking down at his startled brother. He knew how desperate he sounded. He’ll fucking do it, too. He’ll resign himself to months of bad skin condition and being the ugly-looking twin for a while. He’s ready for a lot of time spent in the bathroom.

He’ll heal. His skin will get better again eventually. His stomach will eventually settle too. If somehow he ends up needing a hospital, he’s pretty sure he’ll still live.

Bad skin, upset stomach, the overall inconvenience and torture, they all sounded better than his brother  _dying_.

“I really wanna see that,” Grayson said, the corners of his lips upturned again. For a second there, Ethan thought Grayson would finally agree.

“So, —”

“I still won’t have surgery, even if you drink a hundred gallons milk,” Grayson continued, crushing the almost relief Ethan had for a quick second. “It doesn’t matter what you say or promise, E. I’m not having surgery. You won’t change my mind.”

Ethan gripped harder. Hard enough that his fingers were turning white. There was also Grayson’s flinch, so his grip must bruise him. But, besides wrapping his hands around Ethan’s arms, he didn’t really do anything else. Not even trying to dislodge Ethan’s straining grip.

Grayson could. They both know how to move to free themselves from such grip. They wrestled and brawled long enough, especially with each other, to be very familiar with such moves.

He was hurting Grayson. His twin wasn’t fighting back, letting himself be hurt. As if he knew he was hurting Ethan and figured he deserved the physical pain, making himself the bearer of the brunt of Ethan's frustration, his anger and desperation. He wouldn’t even defend himself or get himself away. Not even a protest.

If Ethan punched his face, would Grayson dodge? He should. But, something about how Grayson has been acting told Ethan he probably wouldn't.

All Ethan could conclude about this was Grayson had decided this, knowing it would hurt Ethan, and won’t change his mind despite that.

Was this why he ran away from Ethan? Why he acted so weirdly and uncharacteristic, like locking himself in and tried to hide his disease? Why he had been desperate in keeping his disease a secret? Was it because he knew, Ethan would ask him this and he wouldn't do it, even to  _survive?_

Ethan had a hard time making sense of this thought.

“Are you suicidal?” Ethan asked, trying to reach for an understanding that kept escaping him. “Have you been depressed about not having your love returned? Are you deluding yourself that if you just waited long enough, maybe your love will eventually be returned like all of those cheesy romantic movies Cameron likes? Is that why you won’t have the surgery?”

The unamused expression would make Ethan laugh if he wasn’t feeling the direness of the situation. Basically, Grayson has been saying he’d rather  _die._  His twin might be a romantic, but usually, he would still listen to Ethan. No matter how much of a romantic he was, it was  _never_ like  _this_.

“It’s not like I  _wanted_ to die,” Grayson said. “I... You wouldn't understand, Ethan.”

_Wouldn't understand._

_Hell fucking yeah, I don't understand._

He has a girlfriend. Reciprocated and mutual and everything. But not once Ethan ever entertained the thought to  _die_  for her. If she breaks up with him, if she had never really liked him in the first place, he still wouldn't die for her, as much as he loves her. And he does love her. But still, if he was the one having the same disease, he'd rather have the surgery than  _die_.

He liked living, thank you. If it was one-sided, then it simply wasn't meant to be. Being alive is too much of a precious thing to waste. There was still a lot of things he wanted to see, more things he wanted to accomplish. More importantly, he wouldn't do that to his family.

Most of all, he wouldn't do that to  _Grayson._

He thought Grayson wouldn't do that to him too. Apparently, he was wrong.

“You really don’t want to lose it,” Ethan muttered to himself, still trying to wrap his head around this thought. “You’d really rather leave me, than lose this stupid,  _one-sided_  love you have?”

His hands felt cold, still gripping on his twin's shoulder in bruising tightness. They were shaking.

Grayson let out a slow exhale

“Mmm.”

Not a denial.

Why won't he deny it?

“You love her that much?”

Grayson smiled again as if he was preparing to say a  _joke_.

“I love you the most Ethan. You  _are_  my brother.”

His grip tightened even more. Grayson flinched again, a small gasp of pain escaped his upturned lips. Still, there was no protest coming.

His smile persists as if he was thinking of a joke that Ethan wasn't privy to.

“You fuckin' _liar_.”

Ethan didn't really mean to sound as cold as he did. But, he did feel cold, all over. He wondered if he was becoming numb. There was something like a cruel satisfaction when Grayson's smile faded.

“I'm not lying.”

“But you still won't have surgery? You won't live for me?”

Grayson looked away.

“This feeling is important to me too, E.”

“More than me?”

He knew it was unfair. He knew how he sounded like those housewives whose husbands were cheating on them, or not paying enough attention to them. It left him feeling clingy and childish, and he wasn’t a housewive or being cheated on.

It sure did feel like it.

When Grayson wouldn’t answer him, he knew whoever caught his brother’s heart, he thought she was worth his life.

_But, no one is worth his life. No one._

“Who is it?” he asked, mouth moving on its own. He didn’t want to ask it, despite the feeling that said he needed to know. He wouldn’t know what to do with that information. Talk to her, force her to love Grayson back? Bribe her?

_Hurt her?_

Grayson’s weird smile came back.

“I’m not telling.”

“Why not?”

Grayson looked right at his eyes, lips still twisted into that strange smile. But, there was something sad in it now.

“I don’t want you to hate the person I love.”

 _How rich_ , Ethan thought.  _I already hate her so much right now._

But, as long as he doesn’t know who, he won’t be able to do anything with that hate.

There was a lot of things he wanted to know, besides the who. He wanted to know why Grayson never told him about her. Why Grayson kept her a secret. Why didn’t he ever talked to Ethan about her, like he usually did when he was interested in a girl.

Right now though, those questions don’t feel important.

He relaxed his grip, feeling light-headed by the  _defeat_ brewing in him. He felt Grayson’s hold on his arms tightening in response, grounding him. He asked the question that felt the most important right now.

“How long do you have?”

There was no definitive timeline, but the doctor Grayson talked to said he might be able to last for a year.

 _One year_.

All Ethan could think about was next year, he won’t have his brother by his side anymore. He won’t be a twin anymore. He won’t have  _Grayson._

_Next year, he’ll be all alone._

Ethan didn’t realize he was crying until Grayson pulled him into an embrace. And Ethan, mind still looping on the  _one year_ , held Grayson back as tight as he could, despite their awkward position.

His chest hurt. He felt like worms were eating out his heart, leaving him open, vulnerable, and  _bleeding_. Barbed wires were twining in his insides, leaving him full of holes and  _broken_.

It hurts.

 _God, it fucking hurt_.

And this was while he still has Grayson, warm and comforting in his embrace. He has Grayson to keep him grounded. Without him…

_…Will I live?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really my proudest chapter. But at least now I can move on the next part :D  
> And my chapter titles are making less and less sense.... Oh well...


	6. Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger and determination. Those are the things that kept him from curling into a pathetic ball of misery.
> 
> He's not sure though how long it can last.
> 
> Despair was a persistent reminder that won't leave him alone.

Somehow, while Ethan was too busy crying and drowning in his own snot and tears, Grayson had dragged them both to settle properly on Ethan's bed. Ethan's pillows surrounded their heads in a messy cluster. He couldn't remember how exactly Grayson managed to move them, but he did remember how much he was clutching at Grayson, how he had grasped at whatever part of Grayson his hand could reach when he felt his hold was slipping, probably when Grayson tried to move them.

It was all a blur to Ethan. When he could finally think beyond the storm in his head, he already found himself draped on top of Grayson, face pressed in the nook of his brother's neck. His hands were clutching on Grayson's shirt, while Grayson had his hands settled on Ethan's bare back.

His tears have dried, but he didn't feel any better. The inside of his chest felt like it was shrivelling, leaving him breathless and empty. He was lost, unmoored, and the warmth of Grayson surrounding him was the only thing keeping him together while he felt numb inside.

They were lying on the bed, holding on to each other while Ethan was trying to  _breathe_. Ethan could barely smell anything through his stuffed-up nose, but he still found a little comfort in the hint of detergent and soap he could smell with his nose so close to Grayson's skin. His tears, sweat, and snot made a wet patch on the collar of Grayson's shirt, but Grayson just kept holding him and Ethan didn't feel like moving yet either.

It felt like there was still a fog in his head. He was thinking of nothing and everything at once, while Grayson was—

Ethan blinked and raised his head a little to see what Grayson was doing. His brother has been silent and not moving for a while now.

Grayson's eyes were closed, his head slightly turned away from Ethan. The hands on Ethan's back was settled limply, even Ethan's slight movement was enough to move them slightly. Also, Grayson's breathing was even and slow, and Ethan thought he could hear him snoring.

...Grayson was  _sleeping_.

The man was  _fucking **asleep**_ **.**

While here Ethan was, fretting and thinking and overall feeling like a giant ball of messed up twine, all knotted up in weird places while halfway towards unravelling. It was a very uncomfortable feeling that makes him restless in a sad, pathetic kind of way. Not only that, his nose was stuffed and there was a lump in his throat he couldn't get rid of. His head was throbbing and his eyes sting.

Whoever that ever said crying makes you feel better was a lying liar who lies. He felt like there was a hole opened up inside him and he was nowhere near feeling ' _better'_ , at all.

The last time he cried as he did was when he was 14 and he couldn't find Grayson anywhere, when Grayson had that snowboarding accident. He had lost track of Grayson and after hours of not finding him, Ethan's brain had conjured the worst ever scenario. If he fell somewhere, if Grayson wouldn't ever be found ever again, if he had  _died_  all because Ethan didn't pay enough attention to where Grayson had gone. Neither of his parents could calm him down until they sent a picture of Grayson to him from the hospital where they found him, bruises on his face but fine overall.

...Well, this time Grayson was actually dying, so—

_Fuck._

Tears were pooling in his eyes again. And he thought they were all dried up, too.

_Shit. **Fuck**._

Ethan lifted himself a bit, bringing an arm to harshly wipe the freshly-spilled tears. He had enough crying already. His eyes hurt, his throat hurt, he was having trouble breathing and he wanted to  _stop **crying**_ **.**

When he opened his eyes again, eyes mildly burning from all the tears and the wiping, he watched Grayson, still soundly asleep. His arms were laying limply around Ethan, and Ethan still has an arm around Grayson's torso. He didn't stir, even as Ethan extricate himself from the loose embrace and slowly backed away to the edge of the bed. Though, when Ethan's feet touched the ground, Grayson let out an almost inaudible mumble.

" _Ngghh_.... E...?"

His hand already reached out to the closest part of Grayson he could reach from his position before he could even think about it. His hand circled around Grayson's outstretched wrist loosely, meant as nothing more than to let Grayson know he was there.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Ethan murmured hoarsely, through the persistent lump in his throat, "Go back to sleep."

"Mm-'kay," Grayson didn't even bother to open his eyes, turning slightly more to the side and simply curled a little around himself as if to compensate for the loss of Ethan before he was quickly out again. Ethan kept his hold for another couple of seconds, watching Grayson breathe in and out in his sleep before he drew his hand back and stood up.

It felt like he was being hypnotized while still having a modicum of awareness. His mind was foggy and groggy as his feet led him towards his bathroom. He didn't even know what he was going to do in his bathroom.

He just wanted to get away. Be alone for a bit.  _Brood,_ like Grayson often accused him of doing.

The large mirror was the first thing he saw once he entered his bathroom. His reflection in the bathroom mirror showed how ugly he looked, eyes red and still slightly wet, all puffed up and rubbed raw. His nose was red too, some traces of snot shined under the bathroom light.

... _I look disgusting._

Ethan let out a long, shaky exhale from his mouth and turned on the tap. Might as well wash his face a bit now and clear his nose. The cool water soothed his face, though the redness won't go away that easily. Though, the water also cleared his head a bit.

When he looked back up and stared at his reflection, he could hear his thoughts more clearly.

 _Grayson is going to die_ , his mind said.  _And he won't do anything about it_.

Despair rose up, along with anger. He tried to clutch at that anger like a desperate man, holding on tight to it, letting it bubble inside him. He tried to make the despair stay in the back of his mind, where he didn't have to think about it.

Anger was better than despair. Despair left him numb and useless. Anger lets him act, even though recklessly.

Ethan breathed in and out again. He didn't realize his fingers had curled tightly into fists, his nails digging into his palm, leaving pink crescent marks across his tattoo and palm when he opened them.

 _Can't fold_.

That's it. He has to do something. He doesn't know what yet, he doesn't even know what exactly he  _can_ do when Grayson already made his decision. He doesn't know what to do to change Grayson's  _stubborn **mind**_ **.**

But  _fuck_ , there is no way he'll let Grayson go without a fight.

* * *

Grayson woke up alone on Ethan's bed. It took him a couple more seconds to figure out why his room seemed darker than usual before he realized he wasn't in his room, but in Ethan's room. Only then, he remembered everything that went down the day before.

Grayson pulled a pillow and hid his face in it, groaning at the memory. He knew he was bad at keeping secrets, especially from Ethan. But, it was  _ridiculous_  how things just spilled out. Like, so he had a panic attack. Or anxiety attack. It felt more like panic, so maybe it  _was_ a panic attack. Still, it wasn't like that was something he should  _run_ from Ethan for. He could've made up stories, like getting stressed about something. Or told Ethan to fuck off, that was an option too. Ethan would've backed off right then if he didn't  _run **away**_.

But, of course, his stupid brain went right to fight or flight instinct and chose flight without asking Grayson's input.

Stupid brain.

Now, Ethan  _knows_. And,  _God,_ Grayson hated how sad Ethan was. How lost he looked, how  _miserable_ he was. He'd never seen Ethan cry like he did.

It was like when Dad told them about his cancer, all over again.

....On second thought, maybe it was.

Grayson groaned again, louder this time. He felt bad. He didn't want Ethan to get sad, or depressed. This was why he didn't want Ethan to know. He'll think about it too much and Grayson didn't want Ethan to either figure out what Grayson didn't want him to know or spiral back to when—

Wait, where  _is_ Ethan?

Grayson sat up quickly. He was in Ethan's room, but no Ethan. He went to check the time, but—right, his phone still died. He forgot to charge it.

Shit.

He dived for Ethan's charger and quickly plugged his phone in. Once it was charging, he turned on his phone and immediately, it was chiming. He had a couple of messages, though nothing seemed urgent. He also saw the time. 7.52 a.m.

That's early.

Too fuckin' early for Ethan to wake up to. And, since he woke up before Grayson, that meant he woke up even  _earlier_.

... _Shit_. Grayson couldn't help but worry, now. He remembered now when Ethan left the bed to go to the bathroom just as he was falling asleep, but he couldn't remember if he ever came back to bed. Though, maybe Grayson just slept too deeply to notice. That happened sometimes. At those times, he'd usually find Ethan on the bed without himself having a memory when Ethan got there.

Maybe he fell asleep on the sitting room couch? Sometimes Ethan liked to be alone when he was upset. Since Grayson was sleeping in Ethan's room, his brother might decide to migrate towards the couches in the sitting room if he wanted to be alone.

Grayson coughed as he got up from the bed, catching the petals that fell out in his hand. He closed his fist around them and went for Ethan's trashcan, throwing them away. Now that he was standing anyway, he decided to wash his face and go look for Ethan.

He wasn't in the sitting room.

Instead, he was in Grayson's room, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he was focusing on fixing up Grayson's bathroom door. The glass shards left behind on the doorframe were gone and cleaned up, leaving just an empty frame. A tarp already covered up the empty frame. Ethan also cleaned up the floor. There was no hint of any scattered piece of glass shards or the flower petals Grayson had coughed up.

Grayson felt a little weird, because usually Ethan was still asleep in this hour. Instead, here he was, working, obviously for some time already. Grayson didn't even know how Ethan got some of the tools since Grayson was pretty sure they didn't have some of them in the house before. And the tarp, where did Ethan get a tarp?

Did he go to a 24-hour store? At dead ass o'clock?

...Did he ever go to bed, at all?

A part of him wanted to tease Ethan, after all these things were usually Grayson's job. But, his brother also has this serious expression on his face that Grayson didn't feel right to joke about. He felt worried for Ethan. He couldn't figure out what mood Ethan was in right now.

Honestly, he didn't know how to make Ethan feel better. He didn't know if  _he_  should try to make Ethan feel better. He didn't even know how he could help Ethan, which was a foreign feeling to have. He always knew how to help Ethan feel better. Maybe not  _fine_ , after all sometimes there are things Grayson couldn't do anything about. But, he always knew how to make Ethan feel  _better_.

Right now, Grayson thought he was probably making Ethan feel worse.

He felt like he should say something anyway.

"...Have you slept?" Grayson asked. Ethan paused his work to glance at him before he turned his focus on the door again.

"No," he answered shortly. "Couldn't sleep."

Grayson bit his lips, wondering if he should walk away. But, he also didn't want to leave Ethan alone right now, so he walked closer to where Ethan was kneeling and knelt beside him instead.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No," he answered again, just as short as before. Grayson waited for Ethan to say something else, but he continued to work on the knob in silence.

Grayson bit the inside of his lips, wondering what else he could say. He was feeling a burn in his throat that had nothing to do with the petals in his throat.

"...Are you mad at me?" Grayson didn't mean for the question to come out so meek, so small. But, that was how it came out through the lump in his throat. When Ethan didn't say anything, he wondered if he should really leave Ethan alone right now or stay put. He never liked it when Ethan was seriously mad at him. He didn't like being ignored, especially by Ethan. That was why he was always so quick to apologize to Ethan, even though sometimes it was for things that weren't really his fault.

This time though, it  _was_  his fault, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry," he tried again. "I'm—"

"Can you stop saying that?" Ethan said loudly, but not quite yelling, "What the fuck are you even sorry for?"

"...I don't know," Grayson said, even though he  _did_  know. He was  _sorry_ he couldn't have that surgery. He shouldn't have fallen in love in the first place, not with Ethan, but did anyway. He wasn't sorry for loving Ethan, but he was  _sorry_ for loving him too much.

Though, not like he could help it.

Still, he didn't think that Ethan would appreciate him being sorry for a decision he wouldn't change. Nothing would annoy and anger Ethan more than him making a decision he felt sorry for, and not changing it despite feeling sorry about it.

"Then stop apologizing. I don't want to hear it."

"Okay..." Grayson said dejectedly. An uncomfortable silence settled between them, one that Grayson didn't know what to do about. Ethan wasn't even working anymore, the doorknob was done and properly set. He was just fiddling with it. Grayson would call him out, but the air between them right now was too weird and he didn't want to set Ethan off.

Any other time he wouldn't have cared, but right now he is worried he'll start crying or do something else just as pathetic if Ethan started yelling at him. He really didn't want them to argue again, not about this. Yesterday was enough.

He coughed up more petals into his hand as he straightened himself up. He saw Ethan turned to him, looking to the petals in his palm, before turning back up to his face, eyes finally looking at Grayson for more than a quick glance. Grayson got up back to his feet awkwardly, one hand settled into a fist to keep the petals from falling to the ground while his other hand fiddled slightly with the hem of his shirt. He didn't know what to do now.

"I'll just... go. Make breakfast or something..." Grayson mumbled out, feeling awkward with Ethan's gaze at him.

Ethan's gaze turned towards the knob again. Not doing anything now, just looking at it.

"Okay."

Grayson bit the inside of his lips again to keep himself from yelling out in frustration. He hated the awkwardness between them. They were never awkward like this before. He didn't know how to do to make it go away.

So Grayson just forced himself to nod and say another awkward "Okay." He then turned back towards the hallway and headed for the kitchen.

He needed to make breakfast now.

* * *

Grayson made omelettes with slices of bacon for himself and Ethan, even though he wasn't really expecting his brother to join him at the dining table or eat it. Still, he always made enough for two whenever he cooks. It was a reflex at this point, even though he knew he would either throw the food away or eat it himself later. Cooking makes him feel better, whether or not Ethan appreciated it.

So, imagine his surprise when Ethan suddenly sat down beside him and pulled the second plate towards himself. He wasn't whining or grumbling or eating it under duress, just sat down and ate the breakfast Grayson made for him as if that was something he does every day.

Grayson wondered if he was dreaming, if Hanahaki can also make him hallucinate things, though—Oh, there's the grimace. Nevermind, then.

"Why do you never put enough salt in this? And why are you always mixing weird ingredients into this? There's something chewy in it,  _ew_ ," and there's the complaint. Of course.

Grayson pouted and took a big bite of his perfectly  _fine_ omelette (alright, so maybe some parts were  _slightly_  undercooked, and some of the ingredients he used weren't cut small enough, but honestly it tasted  _fine_ ) to show how  _delicious_ it was to him. Like, it was at least  _edible_.

"Don't eat it then," Grayson snapped. "No one is forcing you to eat it."

He saw Ethan glancing at him before turning back to the food again. There was a twist on his lips that told Grayson he was about to do something he didn't want to do. True enough, Ethan cut off another piece of the omelette and ate another bite, chewing it with another grimace.

"It doesn't taste  _that_  bad," Ethan said, mouth still chewing. Even swallowing it looked like such an effort. Then, he tried to smile at Grayson, even though he looked like he was going to be sick.

"See? I can—eat it. It's kinda edible," Ethan lied so unconvincingly that Grayson wondered if he'll throw up anytime soon.

A part of Grayson wanted to see how long Ethan can keep that up and how dramatic he will be. Ethan throwing up will always be funny, especially since he was doing that to himself. Another part just wondered what the  _hell_ his twin brother was  _doing_  and feeling concerned about it.

...Grayson loves Ethan. He does. His Hanahaki disease was irrefutable proof of how much he loves his brother. So, when he just gave Ethan a questioning look and a doubtful "Okay," he was just being... a non-patronizing brother. Yeah, that's it. He also wouldn't stop Ethan if he wanted to eat another bite, no matter how terrified he looked. After all, that was Ethan's decision. In fact, he'll just take another bite of his own almost-finished breakfast and watch Ethan without another word.

It wasn't for laughs, not at all.

Just as he thought, Ethan ran towards the kitchen sink by the time he first chewed that third bite, spitting out the omelette he just couldn't eat.

Grayson swallowed his food, ignoring Ethan's vomiting at the sink. Ha. How he could be so in love with someone who couldn't appreciate his cooking, he'll never know.

_(Ha-ha. What a lie.)_

_Well, at least that's a small plus of me dying,_ Grayson thought absently, finishing up his breakfast.  _He won't have to eat my 'terrible food' ever again_.

The thought was strangely fatalistic. He did feel sad about that thought, but there was also something funny about it that he wanted to laugh at himself. And, while listening to Ethan throwing up also made him wonder if his brother would also think it was funny.

....Well, maybe not now. It's too soon. Besides, he still has a year to use that joke. He'll have another chance.

When Ethan's retching noise ceased, Grayson wondered if he'll order something in now, or leave to buy something. Though, he'd rather Ethan go to sleep. His brother seemed sleep deprived, which was probably why he was acting weird. That was Grayson's theory, anyway.

Still, Ethan ate Grayson's food, which was so rare he felt like marking it on a calendar, so that was nice while it lasted. Funny too. He'll just finish what was left on Ethan's plate later.

He was surprised for the second time that morning when Ethan came back to his seat, stared at the barely-eaten omelette determinedly, and picked up his fork again.

"Okay, stop, stop that," Grayson quickly put his hand over Ethan's, stopping his twin from putting another forkful of omelette into his mouth. "That was funny the first time, but now you're just being weird and you'll get yourself sick again."

"No, I'll eat it," Ethan said stubbornly. "It really wasn't that bad."

"You threw up."

"Stomach bug. I need the nutrients in this breakfast now."

"Ethan, you never eat my breakfast anyway! Get a cereal, if you're that hungry."

"I'm eating this, Grayson!"

"Why the fuck _are_ you so adamant about this? You never eat my food!" Grayson asked, bewildered by Ethan's stubbornness to  _eat_ Grayson's food. Usually, making Ethan to even  _try_ his cooking was like pulling teeth. Now, he's that determined to  _eat_ it?

_What is happening?_

"You made it and I should appreciate that!" Ethan sounded like he was reciting it from somewhere and Grayson just felt bewildered why that suddenly mattered  _now_. Grayson already didn't care about whether or not Ethan ate the food he made. Sure, he nagged and act all disappointed, because it  _was_  disappointing, but honestly, he didn't think it was  _that_  much of a big deal—

... _wait..._

"Is this because I'm dying?"

From how Ethan seemed to freeze, Grayson assumed he guessed right.

"Ethan, if you're doing this to make me change my mind about surgery, then you better stop right now. I'm not going to change my mind, I told you that."

Strangely, Ethan seemed to get angry at that.

"Yeah, I know that, Grayson! I fucking  _know_ that! You think that's why I'm doing this!?" Ethan yelled out, going as far as to stand up and he slapped the table top, which startled Grayson a bit. Grayson was worried if Ethan hurt his hand,  _again_ , but it didn't seem like he slapped hard enough to cause harm. Still...

_What is he angry about now?_

"So, why then?" Grayson asked, bewildered and confused.

Ethan fell back onto his chair, almost like he lost all that fire and anger. The mood swings really concerned Grayson now. That couldn't be healthy.

"I couldn't figure it out, the person you fell in love with," Ethan started, elbows on the table and face hiding inside his palms. Thankfully, it meant he didn't notice how Grayson tensed up as he continued on.

"All night, I keep thinking. I kept trying to think back if you ever mentioned anyone, if you ever said anything about it, but I keep drawing up blanks."

 _Okay, that's good,_ Grayson thought privately, releasing the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Well, I never told you," Grayson said, trying to sound reassuring "Though I'm not seeing how this correlates to you eating my food."

Grayson felt like he lost his footing when Ethan lifted his face from his hand, looking at Grayson full of sorrow.

"Just how bad of a brother have I been, Gray?" Ethan asked with a voice that seemed to had been dragged through glass shards.

"Just how bad have I been, that I didn't  _know,_ didn't even  _realize,_  you've fallen in love when we're together all the  _fucking **time**_?"

Grayson's heart skipped a beat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so long that I just had to end it there. If some things don't make sense, wait for the next one? It'll be explained then. (...well, it's not written yet, but it will)
> 
> And, uh... Any of you bored of this already? Another heart to heart.... like, I just finished one and now I feel like I'm just repeating it (but honestly this feels important to the story) so I am... not boring you, I hope.


	7. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it was my fault....
> 
> ...you'd tell me.
> 
> Won't you?

_“Just how bad have I been, that I didn’t know, didn’t even realize, you’ve fallen in love when we’re together all the fucking time?”_

_Grayson’s heart skipped a beat._

* * *

… _Did he figure it out?_

“I know everything about you,” Ethan continued, oblivious to Grayson’s racing heartbeat. “I always knew when you were interested in someone, when you  _liked_ someone. You didn’t have to tell me and I’ll know  _anyway_. We were together all the  _time_. We met and saw the same people. It was  _impossible_  for me not to even see it.”

“Ethan,” Grayson tried when there was a pause to Ethan’s tirade. “You’re not a bad brother. I promise. I just never said anything about it, E.”

“And that’s another thing!” Ethan screamed. “You  _used_ to tell me  _everything!_   ** **Everything,**** Grayson! What the  _fuck ** **happened****_?”

“I do tell you everything,” Grayson answered weakly. He wasn’t lying. He  _did_. Just,  _maybe,_  not about a few, certain things he didn’t think was important. Like him being in love with Ethan. After all, what was the use of telling Ethan such absurd thing, besides making him change how he saw Grayson? He didn’t want pity, or something worse like  _disgust_  when Ethan saw him. It was more important to keep their relationship as they were. Changing it… was risk Grayson wasn’t willing to take.

It wasn’t as important as what they already have.

Even now with his disease and knowing he will die, it is still something he’s determined to take to his grave. Ethan knowing won’t help with anything, especially now, besides making Ethan hate Grayson for falling in love with him and die for it, or hate himself for being unable to love Grayson back, the way the disease needed him to.

Ethan scoffed at his answer. He looked distraught. His eyes were shining with unshed tears. Meanwhile, Grayson felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. His hands felt damp and sweaty. He was torn between his fear of being found out and his guilt for making Ethan feel like  _this_.

“Everything. Yeah, sure. Besides the love of your life, apparently. Besides you getting hurt and getting rejected. Besides you loving someone so  _much_  you’re  _willing_ to  _die_ for it.  ** ** _Fuck_**** _!”_  Ethan pushed at the table, hard. “ _How the ** **hell**** I didn't know  ** **anything****!?”_

“It’s not like we’re actually together  _all_ the time, Ethan,” Grayson tried again. “You have your things and I have my own things. You’re not my keeper, just like I’m not yours. Some things get missed, miscommunication happens, that’s  _normal_. Hell, you have a girlfriend, E. Of course, you would pay more attention to her than you do your brother. It did make me feel kinda lonely, but I get it. It was something I have to get used to eventually, anyway. Considering those, it makes sense that you didn’t see it. I also never said anything, so how would you know? It’s not like we ever had that twin telepathy figured out.”

Grayson tried to explain the best he could, giving excuses that, while technically true, he realized doesn’t quite  _fit_  as the words left his mouth. He tried to tack on a joke in the end, but he knew it fell flat from how Ethan looked. Still, he hoped Ethan would understand—

“So, it  _was_  my fault?”

That wasn’t the conclusion Ethan was supposed to take.

“ _No_!” Grayson denied vehemently, almost desperate in his denial. “Ethan, I told you, I’m the one who never said anything. How is that your fault?”

But, Ethan was undeterred.

“Grayson, have I really been ignoring you? Did I do something, said something, that made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me?”

_Stop_

“Ethan, I  _told_ you—“

“Having a girlfriend isn’t an excuse, Gray. We live  _together_. Yeah, you’re right, we’re not together  _all the time_. But, I still  _should’ve seen something._ I should’ve at least knew something was up! You’re my  _brother!_ ”

_Stop talking_

“Ethan—!“

“Before yesterday, I didn’t even  _suspect_ you had trouble. You got your heart broken up, you used to come to me to cheer you up. But you didn’t, and I didn’t even think anything had happened.  _Fuck,_ shouldn’t I  _know_ anyway? I used to know, even before you told me.  _How did I miss it?”_

_Stop it_

“ _Please,_ Ethan—“

“Is that why you can decide so  _easily_ to leave me?” Ethan’s voice cracked. “Is that why you can decide so  _quickly_  that you’d rather  _die_ than do something,  _anything,_ to  _survive?_ Because you don’t _think_ _I’m—_ ”

“ _ETHAN, STOP—!”_ Grayson yelled out to cut off whatever Ethan was about to say, though a sudden cough cut him off. Blue and yellow flower petals fell on the table, and from the corner of his eyes, Grayson saw how Ethan just seemed to wilt into himself further.

Grayson swept the petals into his hand in one sweep, crushing them in his grip.

He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, he just wanted Ethan to  _stop_. This reminded him why he didn’t want Ethan to know in the first place. Even without  _knowing_ , Ethan found a way to blame himself already.

“Just. Can we not do this?” Grayson continued in a softer voice. His hand was shaking. He couldn’t look at Ethan. He wanted this conversation to  _end_.

“You’re not a bad brother. None of this is your fault. Trust me on this, Ethan.  _Please_.”

When Grayson looked up, there was something fragile in Ethan’s eyes as he looked at him, but his twin at least stopped arguing back.

“Don’t think about this too much,” Grayson said again, calmer now, “I got stupid and fell in love. I’m just unlucky enough to get this stupid disease on top of it. That’s  _all_. Nothing about it has anything to do with you.”

_I’m sorry_

“I got a year. Let’s not waste it arguing stupid shit like this, okay?”

* * *

It wasn’t okay.

Ethan complied. He stopped trying to argue with Grayson. He even stopped talking about the disease altogether.  _That_  was okay.

What wasn’t okay was the way stopped arguing with Grayson  _entirely,_ about  _anything_.

At first, for all his guilt for lying, Grayson still wasn’t ashamed to say he took advantage of Ethan’s sudden compliance by making him do chores. He made Ethan wash the dishes, do the laundry, clean the pool, and even clean the bathrooms. Sure, every time, Ethan looked like he was about to refuse,  _argue,_ like he usually does. In fact, Grayson thought the words must be on the tip of his tongue. But, every time, before the word of refusal ever came out of Ethan’s mouth, he always bit the inside of his lips and swallowed the unspoken refusal before agreeing.

Honestly, it felt brilliant on the first day. He felt a little bad for taking advantage, but he also thought it was just a one-day thing, something Ethan did because he felt especially bad. Of course he took advantage. Unfortunately, he lacked imagination and he didn’t actually want to make Ethan miserable, so the worst thing he made Ethan do was just the chores and the petty orders like making Ethan fetch things for him. Still, it was satisfying anyway. He rarely ever gets to boss Ethan around, so it was kind of a novelty.

But, when Ethan kept doing it on the second day, even on the third day, it had gotten old really fast. He was so used to Ethan  _not_ doing things for him that Grayson forgot how many times a day he asked Ethan to do something that Grayson actually expected Ethan to say no to. He wasn’t used to Ethan actually  _doing_ them. It was concerning. It was  _unsettling_. So much that Grayson thought the only way to stop whatever Ethan was doing was by deliberately making things up to do, things that obviously just Grayson messing around, and hoping he’d say no.

…Ethan didn’t say no.

God, Grayson actually  _missed_  the arguing.

_Why does Ethan have to be so fucking extra?_

“You’re not gonna hurt my feelings or anything if you say no  _sometimes_ , you know,” Grayson muttered as he did his best to scrub Ethan’s hair. “It’s not like I don’t know you. You gotta know I’ve been trying to make you say no _,_ right?”

God, the mud  _still_ stubbornly clinging to the strands. The smell still lingered despite the shampoo.

“I noticed,” Ethan answered blandly, head bowed down and eyes closed as Grayson lathered more shampoo in his hair. Ethan was sitting inside the bathtub while Grayson washed his hair. At least the mud on Ethan's skin was slightly easier to rinse off with only water. His hair, however, needed more than just water.

Grayson was so  _sure_ Ethan would say no this time. After all, he even made weird holes on the muddy ground and did his best to make them especially Trypophobic, if the smell alone wasn’t enough to deter Ethan.

But, Ethan still threw himself into the mud when Grayson told him to, even though his expression did look more fitting to a man being sent to the gallows. Still, the word ‘but’ didn’t even come out of his mouth. He just closed his eyes so he wouldn't see the holes and jumped. Then, of course he also sprained his own arm and his ankle in the process.

Which was why now Grayson found himself sitting on a stool in his shorts, washing Ethan’s hair. He had to help wash Ethan up. It was his fault, anyway. At least Ethan’s arm and ankle only needed some ice. Still, it wasn’t like Ethan can clean himself up on his own with a sprained arm, especially with his hair. Of course Grayson had to lend a hand _._

At least Ethan is still wearing his bathing shorts.

Grayson sighed loudly, scrubbing at Ethan’s hair even harder.  _God,_ the smell was the worst idea Grayson ever had. He probably needs a shower too after this. He also needs to clean up the kiddie pool he used for the mud.  _Why_ did he  _think_  it was a good idea?

“If you know I was messing with you, why do it anyway? If you start saying something about surgery again I swear I’ll pull all of your hair out, E,” Grayson said, emphasizing his last sentence by digging his fingers harder onto Ethan’s scalp.

Ethan was silent for a few moments. Grayson thought maybe Ethan wouldn’t answer him as he continued his work on Ethan’s hair. It’s actually unfair how Ethan has a thicker hair than him. Softer too, he thought absently. They use pretty much the same products, so how come Ethan’s hair always came off softer? Is it because his hair is longer? Nah, probably not that.

“You’re dying,” Ethan said suddenly, snapping Grayson out of his daze on Ethan’s hair. He glanced down at Ethan, though with all the suds and Ethan was still bowing his head, it’s not like Grayson can see Ethan’s face.

“I mean it, E,” Grayson said, tightening his grip on Ethan’s hair between his fingers, “If this is about the surgery again I swear I’ll really pull all your hair out.”

Ethan was silent again. He didn't even have an indignant protest for Grayson at the threat.  _Fuck._

But, before Grayson could actually tug on Ethan’s hair, to emphasize the seriousness of his threat, Ethan started talking again.

“You got a year. I wanted...” Ethan trailed off. Grayson waited, his grip on Ethan’s hair loosened. Hoping against hope that whatever Ethan's reason was, it was nothing to do with his insistence for surgery.

“I wanted to show you that I  _can_ be good. That I can do whatever you wanna ask me to. I won’t argue. I  _can_ stop arguing with you. I wanted you to change your  _mind_.”

Grayson wanted to pull his own hair out. No, he  _should_  pull Ethan’s hair out. Like, for real. He  _should_.

Instead, Grayson let out a long sigh, the back of his hands now leaning on Ethan’s shoulders. His palms are still sudsy and slippery with shampoo, so he used the joints between his hand and wrist to press on the slope of Ethan’s shoulder. Ethan moved slightly forward, but then he held himself still to accommodate Grayson.

Right now he might try to choke Ethan with his hands if he put his palms anywhere near his throat. He was tempted. That’s how frustrated he was. If he thought it would work to shake that kind of thought off Ethan’s head, he would do it. 

Maybe if he wasn't in love with Ethan, he wouldn't feel this much. But, if he wasn't in love with Ethan, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.

“I got a year, Ethan,” Grayson said, trying to not sound desperate. “I don’t wanna spend it with a slave that obeys my every will or fulfil my every want. I wanna spend it with my  _brother_. I want us to do what we always do. I wanna argue, fight, make more videos, and argue some more. I want us to be just like usual. Can we just do that?”

Ethan was silent again, so Grayson just let out another sigh and reached for the shower head, pulling it towards him and washed off the shampoo suds off Ethan’s hair. He shook off the strands with his other hand, making sure everything was washed off completely and there was no shampoo left behind. After he was sure everything was washed off cleanly, he then let go of the shower head, hooking it to where he can still easily reach and turning to reach for Ethan’s soap that he set down somewhere beside him. He then turned back around, deciding he could start with Ethan’s back.

So was his plan anyway, before he was attacked with a stream of water straight at his face. He spluttered and jumped, actually tripped and slipped on his feet and he fell straight on his butt.

“Owww....,” he groaned. He heard a breathy chuckle and when he managed to open his eyes, he saw Ethan facing towards him, wet hair clinging to his face and the shower head in his good hand, still half-way directed towards Grayson. There was a smile on his face. There was still something sad in his expression, but Ethan’s smile was real. The kind of smile that Grayson didn’t think Ethan even realized making.

So, reflexively, Grayson also couldn’t help the way the corners of his own lips lifted in return.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Grayson complained as he got up, “I was helping you wash up! What was that for? My shorts all wet now!”

“You made me jump into a trypophobic mud-pool!” Ethan complained back indignantly, crouching low in the tub, still holding the shower head like a weapon. His wet hair curled around his forehead before he combed it back with his free hand. “It actually felt like ants were crawling all over my skin and I was so  _tempted_ to just punch your face! I’m just getting my payback!”

Ethan aimed the shower at Grayson again, effectively drenching Grayson some more. It was annoying when the water hit his face, and wet shorts aren’t comfortable either.

“Stop—knock it— _Ethan_!” Grayson spluttered, trying to defend himself from the water with his hand, while his other hand was reaching forward, blindly trying to take Ethan’s weapon away. Ethan let out a laugh as he moved and evaded Grayson’s flailing hand. When Grayson managed to get his hand on the shower head, it began a little tug-o-war for it.

Ethan was holding it with both hands, but he only got one good working hand while Grayson has two. He was about to snatch it away, pull as hard as he could, but he lost his footing because the floor was all slippery because of the sprayed water and he fell, pulling Ethan with him when he tried to grab something and ended up grabbing Ethan’s arm.

Ethan fell to his butt and probably hit his head too on the wall while Grayson fell on top of him, his chin barely brushing against Ethan’s knee before his head was cushioned by Ethan’s stomach while his own stomach hit the edge of the tub and his right knee hit the outside of the tub. The shower head fell to the bottom of the tub, facing upwards, showering both of them with water.

_Fuck, it hurts._

They both groaned in pain. But, Grayson also couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him. With his head still pressed against Ethan’s stomach, he could feel the tremble Ethan’s helpless laughter too.

“Oh my  _gosh_ , what the  _fuck_ are we doing?” Ethan asked, still laughing while Grayson gingerly lifted himself up, chuckling too. They’re both wet and  _injured_. It was  _ridiculous_.

“I dunno. I was helping you wash up until you attacked me!” Grayson defended, kneeling beside the tub now because  _fuck,_ his stomach throbbed. His knee also stings. He’d probably fall down again if he tried to stand. Still, he could feel his lips still forming a smile despite his own complaints.

He tried to stand anyway and his knee actually wobbled a bit. At least nothing seemed to be broken, though he’ll probably bruise. Grayson had to laugh again as he pulled his stool nearer to where he was and sat down carefully on it. Meanwhile, he noticed Ethan had moved to a more comfortable position and he already placed the shower head out of the way, the water still running, though it no longer rained them both. But, he also seemed to be a little out of it.

“Hey, E,” Grayson called, folding his arm on the edge of the tub and leaned his chin on it, “You okay?”

Ethan flicked his eyes back towards Grayson, wet hair curled again around his forehead. Something strange crossed his expression, too fast for Grayson to understand, before replying, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

* * *

 

Ethan felt his head throbbing, his ass hurting, and his sprained arm felt even more strained now. His ankle honestly felt terrible and he wondered if he should check to the hospital. Though, it didn't feel broken. His stomach also kinda hurt after being head-butted by Grayson’s hard-ass head. But, he also got hurt often enough to know nothing would last more than a day or so. He’ll probably have some bruise later, but nothing worse than that.

“Still want me to wash your back?” Grayson asked, expression inquiring. His wet hair looked messy and ridiculous, parts of it spiked up when Grayson ran a hand through them. There was a little smile on his lips, still in a humorous mood even though Ethan felt whatever lightness he had temporarily felt fading away.

Honestly, Ethan would like to be alone right now.

It sucks, having a mind like his. They were laughing, tussling, like usual,  _as Grayson wanted. A_ nd then, when the laughter dies down, his brain came back to how in a year  _I won't have this anymore._

_In a year, no one will wash my hair_

_Or help me wash my back_

_No one will mess with me and no one will make me laugh_

_Utterly, irrevocably, ** **literally****_

****Alone** **

“I’m okay,” Ethan said, even though a part of him wanted to say ‘yes, please'. “It was just a sprain. You already helped wash away the worst of it anyway.”

Grayson laughed again.

_I won't hear that laugh again next year_

“Yeah, I could barely see your actual hair before under all the mud,” Grayson grinned, reaching out and ran his hand through the mess of Ethan's wet hair, most likely worsening the mess. Before Ethan could do anything against it, Grayson already pulled his hand back and stood up.

“Alright, I'll leave you to it then. I’ll just go change to something dry go clean up the kiddie pool….and get wet again…  _Ugh,_ why did I ever think it was a good idea?” Grayson muttered out the last part. Ethan couldn’t help his smile, again.

“You never have good ideas, Grayson,” the familiar banter  _is_ comforting. He didn't even have to see Grayson's face to know Grayson was rolling his eyes. The raised middle finger and the curse “Fuck you, Ethan,” as Grayson left the bathroom also made him bark another laugh. Then, the door closed behind Grayson, and Ethan was left alone.

It was ridiculous how lonely he already felt, with the echo of their tussle and their banter still left within the bathroom. It was as if Grayson took all the light, the  _sound, the very air_ , with him. It felt stupid how sentimental he was already over the most ridiculous, simplest thing.

Grayson is only on the other side of that door. He's not  _gone_. If he tried hard enough, he can probably hear the faint sound of Grayson cursing himself over the pool of mud. After all, he is always so  _loud._

And yet, even though his logic understands... The absence of Grayson's  _being_ and the mere  _thought_  of how permanent said absence  _will be_  choked him anyway.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.  _Breathe,_ even though his lungs were starting to feel like they were shrinking a couple of sizes smaller. Like he thought, he could hear Grayson’s faint cursing from the distance, across the walls that separated them when he'd just  _focus_. It was  _stupid_ how it calmed him down.

 _Stop,_ he told himself, grabbing the shower head again, this time to wash himself thoroughly. Grayson already helped with rinsing most of the mud on his skin and washed his hair. All he had to do left was getting his wet bathing shorts off and get some soap to get the remaining dirt off. No different than normal showering. Sure, doing it while sitting and with sprained ankle and arm was tricky, but honestly, it wasn’t exactly a new experience.

Focusing on cleaning himself off feels a lot better than focusing on Grayson and his eventual  _absence._

He has  _time_.

They have a year. That’s not a long time, but there’s still a lot he can do, he can  _try,_ in a year. So doing whatever Grayson said didn’t work, he’ll figure out something else he can do.

There’s still  _time._

He just has to keep remembering that.

 

****TBC** **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... how is it?
> 
> By the way, if you noticed a few kind-of suggestive words... I probably did that on purpose. I mean, come on. They're both literally half-naked. And wet. It was tempting to just add something suggestive. Like actually have Grayson run his soapy hand across Ethan's skin, have him feeling a little flustered and things. 
> 
> But alas, it wasn't the time or even the right mood for it. Still, it was literally in my mind while writing the whole scene even though it's not gonna happen anytime soon. Or ever, depending on the ending. Like seriously. When Grayson fell I actually wondered if I should just make him fall mouth first on Ethan's dick. And then I can probably end the book right in this chapter and save myself the time and work.
> 
> ...I'd most likely hate myself if I did that though...


End file.
